Chapter 4
Tripp
“What is that?” My question comes out harsher than I intend, but I’m still irritated about the call with my too-cheerful sister.
Mandi offered no apologies for the Christmas explosion that took place today, and she still expects me to show up for Christmas morning at her house like she’s not on my shit list right now.
“Cookie dough,” Harley says, flashing me a smile as she kicks off her snow-covered boots once more.
“Why do you have a giant tub of cookie dough?”
She frowns at me. “Do you have something against sweets?”
“No.”
“Then maybe try saying thank you. I’m sharing my Christmas bonus with you, and I didn’t plan to share it with anybody,” she says, moving into my kitchen like it’s the most natural thing. “Not even Mandi.”
In some ways, it does feel normal to watch her search my cupboards for baking sheets that I only have because I inherited Nana’s dishes this past summer. I’m not sure what the hell to make of that. Harley Greer’s never been to my cabin before today, and once she leaves, she’ll never be back again.
I don’t invite people out here, not even my sister’s family. Mandi only had a key in case of emergencies, and after today, I’m seriously considering revoking those privileges.
“Andi gave each of us a tub of her magical cookie dough for Christmas. Hope you like sugar cookies, because that’s what I picked.”
“You planning to extend your stay?” I ask, keeping close to the fridge so I don’t accidentally bump into her. Even the slightest brush of contact threatens to make me stupid. I damn near kissed her on the couch. Hell, if Mandi hadn’t called, I might’ve done a whole lot more than kiss her.
I’m still haunted by the quick peek of that red lace bra earlier. What I wouldn’t give to press my mouth to the fabric, right above her nipples.
“The dough’s already pre-made. It won’t take long to bake a sheet of them.” She looks up at me as she scoops spoonfuls of dough onto the baking sheet. “You didn’t think I was making all of them, did you?”
“Why do you even have this with you?”
“Because I worked a late shift last night and forgot to take it out of my Jeep when I got home.” She pulls a chunk of dough from the container and plops it in her mouth. I pretend not to watch her mouth move, but dammit if I don’t crave tasting that sweet dough on her tongue.
“Again, you’re welcome,” she says.
“I’ll save my gratitude for after I try them.”
She holds out a chunk of dough to me in offering, wiggling it in her pinched thumb and index finger. Despite my better judgment, I push off the fridge and walk up to her, taking the offering with my mouth.
Harley gasps quickly, and dammit if my cock doesn’t warm right to life as my lips quickly brush her fingers and pilfer the dough. I wonder how many other ways I could make her gasp.
“Good, huh?” she asks, spinning away, likely to hide the flush on her face. A flush I know damn well I put there. It makes me feel smug and possessive in a way that I have no right feeling.
“Who’s going with you to the brewery tonight?”
“No one,” I say. “It’s a single’s mixer.”
“You don’t have any single friends.”
“Not really,” she says, pulling open the preheated oven and sliding the cookie sheet in. “You change your mind?”
“No,” I say instantly.
“You sure?” She closes the oven door, sets the timer, and then spins to face me. “You seem really interested in it all of a sudden.”
“That part of my life is over.” I admit, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been married—and divorced—twice.”
“So you’re just going to what? Give up on love?”
“I like my peace,” I admit.
“Has to be lonely, though,” she says, rinsing her hands off in the sink.
I watch as the soap suds over her fingers, unable to keep my imagination from running wild.
What would it feel like to have those soft hands slide up the side of my neck and tangle in my hair? Or to have them circled around my cock?
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
“Sure you are.”
“I am.”
She raises an eyebrow at me in challenge.
“I like my life the way it is. Without complications.”
“Maybe you’ve just forgotten how good sex could be.”
An instant image of her naked and tangled in my sheets as I hover above her, pummeling that sweet pussy, assaults me without warning. Instead of shaking it away like I fucking should, I lean into the impulse as I cage her against the kitchen counter, one hand on either side of her hip.
“I assure you, I have not forgotten a thing when it comes to sex, sweetheart.”
“Prove it,” she says, holding her ground.
I cup her cheek, tracing her jawline with my thumb. “You couldn’t handle sex with me, Harley.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d be fucking ruined for all men when I’m through with you.”
“Pretty bold claim.”
Maybe it’s because she’s goading me and I’m too stupid to fight through it.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been insanely attracted to Harley Greer since the first day Mandi introduced us over a family dinner.
Maybe it’s because deep down I know this woman has been mine since the first moment our eyes met across that dinner table.
Whatever the reason, I stop resisting.
I tilt Harley’s chin up and capture that pretty mouth with my own.