Sweet Cheeks(56)

I absorb the moment. The feel of his hard body next to me. How his hand absently plays with my hair. That carnal grin and look in his eyes that tells me he wants to do me all over again. And I definitely wouldn’t say no because holy shit, the man has perfected some serious skills during the years we were apart.

“No. No feathers. No mustard,” I say with a nod of my head.

“Just flour and sugar,” he deadpans. He laughs and it rumbles through his chest and into mine. How could I forget the plume of flour and the granules of sugar beneath my back?

“Is it that bad?”

“Let’s just say you’ve given a whole new meaning to the term sweet cheeks.”

His hand slaps my ass in a playful manner but doesn’t leave. Rather he digs his fingers into my flesh there and uses the leverage to pull my body up at the same time he leans down. Our mouths meet somewhere in between.

The kiss is soft and tender with an underlying edge of hunger. Or is it desperation? I’m not sure, but I let him take the lead. Allow him to choose the direction of what happens next because I honestly wasn’t sure how the what happens next was going to play out between us.

But this? This I can handle. The soft caress of his hand. The slow lick of his tongue. The warm heat of his breath. The feeling of sinking into him rather than running away. The comfort instead of the panic.

Or maybe he’s just distracting us from voicing the questions we should probably be asking.

“Mmm,” he murmurs as he ends the kiss. “Definitely sweet.”

I roll my eyes and laugh but can’t deny the little charge to the ache within me that he seems to constantly keep stoked.

He continues with that lazy draw of his finger up and down my biceps. I’m so content, so fulfilled, that it takes more than a few minutes for it to hit me. The darkened sky. The time of day.

“Oh my God. We missed the rehearsal dinner.” Hayes’s arms hold me still as I try to sit up.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath hitting the crown of my head. “I rethought our strategy.”

“You what?” I lift my head to meet his, shift so I place my hands on his bare chest and rest my chin on top of them. The action is natural, and something about it also feels so incredibly intimate.

“I rethought our strategy,” he repeats with a resounding nod of his head. “They saw us today. Laughing. Kissing. Not caring who was watching. So I kind of think that by not showing up, we’ll let them assume whatever they want to assume we’re doing.”

“Like swimming with turtles.” I love the surprised look on his face at my benign suggestion.

“I was thinking something a bit more satisfying.” His fingertips trace up my spine. Goosebumps follow their path, but my body warms beneath his touch.

“More satisfying, huh?” I decide to play along. “Like karaoke?”

His laugh rumbles again. The bite of his teeth into his bottom lip holds my attention. “What was that lyric again?”

“Addicted to love, I think.”

“Nice try. Funny how you change your tune now.” He shakes his head.

“Whatever, Captain.” I fight my smirk but lose the battle when he shifts me so I’m lying more on top of him than not. The unmistakable feel of his hardening dick presses against me and wakens my sex-drugged senses.

“Watch it, Ships. You’re trying to distract me from explaining my new game plan.”

And oh, how I want to distract him.

“Right. Sorry. Where were we, again?”

“Thinking of something more satisfying to do than attend a stuffy wedding rehearsal dinner because neither of us are in the wedding and therefore have nothing to rehearse.”

“Correct,” I say, following the logic I’ve always thought but never voiced out loud when Mrs. Layton insisted that all guests attend the rehearsal dinner. They’ll have traveled a long way to see you, Saylor, the least we can do is feed them twice. Ugh. Her voice has no place in my head right now. Not with Hayes beneath me, and his lips so damn close to mine.

“And so you were telling me what might be way more pleasurable than sitting in a formal dining room trying to decide which damn fork to eat your salad with when all you really wanted was a pepperoni pizza with jalapenos on half of it.”

I laugh. And then melt at the fact that he still remembers my favorite pizza toppings. “Right. Yes.” I straighten my shoulders and narrow my eyes to pretend like I’m thinking of an answer. “Something pleasurable. Hmm. Oh, I know. We could make cupcakes. I always find that extremely satisfying.” I purr the last words out. Taunt him. Test him. Wonder how he’s going to finish this game we’re playing.

He hums in his throat and the sound winds through my body. “While I know your batter is addictively sweet . . .” he darts his tongue out and licks his lip, his inference loud and clear, “. . . like I can’t wait to dip my fingers in it and taste it again sweet. But no, I think there is something more pleasurable we should do to make missing the dinner worthwhile.”

My breath is ragged and my lips fall lax as the memory of look in his eyes as I licked my arousal off his fingers replays in my mind.

“Like what?” My question is a hushed whisper. Lust thick in my voice.

He runs a hand ever so slowly along my spine and down my hip then back up to the curve of my knee. He hitches it up higher so my knee angles up next to his torso.