Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(27)

“What about Kendall?” Jason pulled his keys out of his pocket.

I shrugged. “I could’ve gone without the model pics—not about to wonder why Kendall didn’t send one.”

He grinned. “I gotta head out, man. Ben’s had a few. If he’s ready, I’ll drive him home.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Ben roared suddenly, lifting his arms above his head in a victory stance. “Ha! Score, loser.”

Mase scowled at him. “Next time you’re here, I want a rematch.”

I said my good-byes to everyone as they headed up the stairs while I cleaned up our mess, bagging the trash. Then I grabbed my phone and turned out the lights before heading up to my room.

Pulling up Hannah’s number, I almost pressed {CALL}. But then I had an idea.





12


Private Party


I dialed Hannah. It rang twice before she answered.

“Cade?” Her voice sounded sleepy.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Maybe.” She yawned.

“Where are you?”

She huffed out soft laugh. “My bed.”

“Where are my sisters?”

“Kiki stumbled into the living room and passed out on the couch. Kendall and Kristen are sound asleep on the other side of my bed.”

“Want to see me?”

Her sexy whimper turned into a purr. “Yeah, but I can’t drive.”

“Don’t need to.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Where are you?”

“Out back. Look for the guy in the tent.”

I heard a short gasp. Then the line went dead.

Her back door opened and closed. Seconds later, a flashlight beam scanned the backyard.

She appeared in the tent opening, blinking. “When…how?”

I grinned. “As soon as the guys left, I grabbed Mase’s tent. Looks great in your backyard, don’t you think?”

A seductive smile curved her lips. “You look great in my backyard.”

Her long, dark hair was messy, wild. She wore a little black nightie that hinted at her delicious curves beneath.

The breeze caught a corner of the gauzy fabric, whipping it up to her hip. Her thigh was exposed all the way to a tiny lace thong strap.

“When did you buy that outfit?” My voice came out hoarse.

I’d seen her in two states: clothed and naked. Never this in-between phase that made me want to watch her almost as badly as I wanted to touch her. Almost.

She shifted her weight and rubbed the fingers of one hand absently up her other arm. “Shortly after our first date.”

I tried to remember. “Which first date?”

Her pink tongue flicked out, licking her lips. She pulled her lower lip in with her teeth, biting one side of it, holding it there.

Fuck. I wanted to suck her lip back out. My mouth watered.

When she released it, the skin glistened, plump. “The very first one. Remember? I imagined you naked, in my cupcake meadow.”

I chuckled. “And you imagined yourself in that outfit?”

A slight headshake sent her hair tumbling over her shoulder, baring the upper curves of her breasts. “No, I imagined myself naked with you, both of us covered in frosting. I licked some off of you, you licked some off of me…”

“Fuck me.”

A sexy smirk curled her lips. “That is the idea.”

I tried to remain calm. My impatient primal side wanted to order her over to me. Demand. Show her everything I craved to do to her, needed her to give to me, repeatedly. But I didn’t. Not yet. The lazy foreplay unfolding between us was unlike any other. And she seemed content on standing right where she was—teasing me.

“We need to add frosting to the list, Maestro. Right beside honey, chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and whipped cream.”

Her brows drew together. “Wait. Was there whipped cream?”

I grumbled, “If there wasn’t, I’m adding it.”

She smiled. “Okay. And now frosting. You know we’ll have to make it fresh. Half the fun will be making it and deciding on the colors.”

“The other half will be licking it off.” I frowned. “Wait. That’s not right.”

Confused, she shook her head. “What isn’t right?”

“That the ‘licking off’ part would only be half the fun. More like three-quarters.”

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter—which did this amazing bouncing thing to her breasts hidden by that black nightie, the subject of our discussion. “So where exactly did you buy that?” I gestured my finger to the outfit.

She tilted her head. I had no idea whether she was aware of her actions, but her hand had abandoned her arm. She now rubbed it back and forth in barely perceptible movements, just underneath the curve of her breast. “It’s a baby-doll. And why do you want to know?”

My gaze got stuck on that tantalizing movement. I swallowed hard. “Oh, I don’t know. To buy you presents, send them a thank-you card, buy stock in their company…”

There went her lower lip again, sucked into her mouth, before she slowly released it again. Her talented mouth had teased and sucked other things so well, my mind blew, thoughts scattering.

Her hand shifted from the gentle stroking below her breast and smoothed up over it. She hissed in a breath when her fingers drifted over the center. I couldn’t see her nipples, but I imagined them hard, aching for my lips, my teeth.