Fake It Till You Bake It(67)

“No, I wouldn’t have.” She slapped at his chest, then decided to linger because it was a very nice chest. Hard muscles flexed under her seeking fingers. Very nice. “Okay, yes I would have,” she added at his snort.

“And I would have said, ‘I’d like to discuss the situation over dinner in a more private setting.’”

“And I would have said, ‘Donovan Dell, are you asking me out on a date?’”

“And I would have said yes and then jumped up from my chair to catch you as you fainted and slid to the ground.” He trailed his mouth up her throat to her right ear, teasing her with his lips and tongue.

Jada tried to marshal her thoughts, which had scattered to every corner of the earth. His lips really were masterful. “So, basically, I screwed everything up.”

“No, you did everything right.”

And just like that, her heart stopped. How in the world did she think she ever stood a chance at resisting him? At resisting the feelings he stirred in her?

She rose on her toes and angled her mouth to his. A perfect fit, just like all the other times they’d kissed. Pleasure and desire flowed through her body in an unyielding stream. It was her turn to groan when Donovan stepped back.

“As much as I’d like to stay in the cozy confines of my office and kiss you for hours on end, I do believe my initial plan still has some merit.”

“Dinner?” At his nod, she grinned. “I like food. Think we can sneak out of here? I’m sure everyone is out there waiting to see how we’ll react to John’s visit.”

“They’re going to be disappointed.” He reached for her hand. “We’ll go out the back. I’ll text Nicholas that we’ve flown the coop.”

Look at that logical side of him coming in handy. “Sounds like a plan.”

He pressed one more kiss to her lips. “Follow me in my car. I’ll send you the address for your GPS in case we get split up.”

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”



* * *



Donovan reached for Jada’s hand as soon as she stepped out of her car. Touching her never got old. If he was honest with himself, a feeling he could only describe as pure joy had swept through him when her car pulled up behind him. This was real. “Ready for our date?”

She squinted. “Is date a synonym for more kissing?”

He laughed. She never failed to amuse him. “Probably.”

She clapped her hands. “Then let’s get to it.” She tugged him toward the front door.

Once inside the house, he led her straight to the kitchen. She turned and lifted on her toes. Thrilled to accept the invitation, he cradled her chin and lowered his head. He wanted to go slow, take his time in hopes he’d remember every moment. He patiently sipped at her luscious lips, content to savor her sweetness. Until she moaned. That sound, so sexy … what she did to him without even trying. Her lips parted, and he pulled her closer for a long, intense kiss that rattled his brain.

He chuckled slightly when her hands went wandering, yanking at the hem of his shirt. Then he sucked in a breath when her hand met his skin underneath the polo. Who knew such small hands could cause so much havoc? Her palms trailed along the sensitive flesh of his stomach, leaving goose bumps in their wake. How would it feel to have those greedy hands touching a more sensitive, yet eager part of him?

“I want to touch all of you,” she murmured against his mouth, seemingly reading his mind, the yearning in her voice ramping up the fire in his blood.

Then a loud, unwelcome sound joined the fun.

Reluctantly stepping away from her intoxicating touch, Donovan grinned down at her. “Your stomach disagrees.”

Her lips pulled into a pout. “But, but—”

“But I promised you dinner and I’m not going to have you fainting on me.”

“But, but—” Again, her stomach made its opinion known.

His eyebrows rose. “You were saying?”

Jada lifted her chin. “Fine. You promised me food, so where’s the food?”

Yeah, there was no denying it. Her bougie tone got him hot as hell.



* * *



Twenty minutes later, they were settled on his massive sectional couch, close enough for Jada to touch Donovan whenever she wanted. Close enough to lay out on if the mood struck.

It was cute that he wanted to take care of her. She still couldn’t believe she was here with him and they weren’t fighting, unless coming dangerously close to tearing each other’s clothes off counted. An activity she planned to return to in the near future.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled.

“Like what?” she asked with her most innocent voice. “I’m simply enjoying this fantastic meal your chef made.” She gestured toward the plate on her lap that contained perfectly roasted chicken, fingerling potatoes that practically melted in her mouth, and the best asparagus she’d ever tasted.

When she’d expressed surprise that he wasn’t cooking since he loved baking, he’d reminded her he didn’t have much time to cook, with the bakery and his other full-time career of playing football, and his chef was more knowledgeable than he was about what he needed to keep his body in peak condition.

Jada perused his fine form one more time. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him again. Oh, yeah. She definitely needed to give her compliments to the chef.