my lips. “And if I fuck you in this car, your precious cheesecake may not survive.”
She laughed and put her head on my shoulder, thankfully letting me drive her—and my defenseless penis—home. However, the little shit continued to talk smack.
How had I managed to find a woman who was as ornery as me?
“All right, Mr. Moore, I see what you’re doing. You’re afraid of my A-game and you need time to get your defense in line.” She patted my leg. “But when the front door shuts, you better be prepared. I want that chocolate and I want it bad.”
I didn’t drive recklessly, per se. But I was only using the speed limits as a guideline. I’d learned my way around her neighborhood. The drive back was short.
She looked like an angel, but I didn’t miss the extra sway of her ass as she sauntered to the door, not waiting for me. One hand held the bag; the other held the key, which she’d had ready three blocks back.
Oh, my fucking God. She was perfect and she really loved that damn chocolate cheesecake. It was almost a shame to move her away from it. Almost.
I’m sure San Francisco had something to rival it. First thing on the list when we got settled in: find it. Every man needs to know his woman’s weakness.
Quadruple Chocolate was hers. She was mine. You do the math.
The door was open by the time I made it around the car. She stood holding it for me in that sexy-as-fuck half-librarian, half-vixen dress, as I walked through the threshold. She shut it behind me and I heard the lock click.
I loosened my tie.
It was about to get real. Real hot. Real intense. And real fun.
Blake walked past me into the kitchen and promptly put the whole bag in the refrigerator.
“We don’t want it to spoil. This might take a while,” she said, her voice thick with need. Hell, I hoped some of that need belonged to me and not just the cheesecake. It didn’t really matter. I’d fly that shit south every week for this kind of attention.
Her fingers went to work on the buttons on the front of her dress. My fingers itched to do it for her, but my eyes loved the show.
“You see, I’ve been craving something, Casey. In fact, just thinking about it is making my mouth water.”
I kicked off my shoes and she fought off a smile, doing her best to stay in seductress mode. I stepped toward her. It was going to be a showdown at the Cheesecake-sex Corral.
“Blake, there are just too many things I could say right now. You talk a good game, but talk is cheap.” When I got to the hall, I walked backward toward her room. Stripping as I went. Her eyes followed my hands as they mirrored hers, button for button. I slipped the shirt off, but chose to leave the tie. You know. Something new. Throw her off.
She pulled her dress over her head, careful not to strain the still tender muscles.
That’s it, honeybee, take it all off. Let me see that fucking body.
I was familiar with her in the nude, but seeing her in the white lace bra and panties she wore about stopped my heart. She looked flawless. Her lips were still plum and shiny from the gloss she’d reapplied earlier. Her chestnut brown hair fell perfectly across her shoulders. I wished I had a camera.
Then she admitted, “I wish I had a picture of you wearing just those pants and that tie.” I bit back the laugh rising in my throat from our almost identical thoughts. Those moments always caught me off guard. Sometimes it was like she read my mind. My dirty, filthy, heathen mind.
She stalked toward me. Oh, hell was I lucky.
I sat on the bed and waited for her. I wanted her to climb on top of me and earn that dessert, but she had other ideas. Tossing a pillow from the bed on the floor, she knelt in front of my parted legs. I leaned back on one elbow and ran a hand through her hair. I loved when she was playful like this.
As she worked at my pants, I said, “Thank you for moving in with me. You make me so fucking happy.” It was odd in the moment; we had this whole sex battle brewing, but I meant it. I had to get it off my chest, and I really wanted her to know.
“You’re welcome,”