Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,100
to his crotch, and he winced audibly when his body reacted.
“That does.” She sighed. “That, and the fact that I’m in much the same way. It’s a sad, sorry place to be, too.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh at the downright forlorn look on her face, or pout right along with her. So he did a little of both . . . and drove perhaps a tad recklessly back to his house.
Lolly trotted down the drive to greet them, and Dylan reached in the console for a biscuit for her, which he tossed a few feet away for her to fetch and munch on after he carefully slid out of the truck. Lolly’s hip was improving every day, and Doc Jensen told him he should see that she exercised it more and work on strengthening the muscles. That was all fine and good, but truth be told, he was just keeping the pup busy as he had other plans in mind that didn’t include playing fetch.
He went around the back of the truck to the passenger side, but Honey was already sliding out of the cab. He jogged the last few steps, willing to pay the price so he could get there in time to deftly scoop her into his arms before her feet hit the ground. She let out a short squeal, and he spun her around, making her laugh. He handed her one of the biscuits he’d stashed in his pocket when Lolly came trotting up, barking playfully at their antics. They tossed the biscuits into the front yard, then smiled at each other when she trotted off.
Honey looped her arms around Dylan’s neck. “Well, now that the children are busy . . . what about those etchings?”
“I thought we were having dinner?”
“Will it keep until later? Maybe as an après snack under the stars?”
“It will keep, but après what?”
She rolled her eyes, then undid the top button of his polo shirt. “Your turn.”
He grinned. “Ah, that kind of après.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Unless you’d rather dine first, for fortitude. I must say though, it didn’t appear that stamina was going to be an issue.”
He chuckled and felt a little heat climb up his neck at the same time. “You say the damndest things, sugar.”
“We all have our strengths.”
His chuckle was deeper, and he had the pleasure of watching her pupils slowly swallow up that sea of green. “That we do, darlin.” He let his palm slide around her waist until his thumb grazed alongside the swell of her breast.
He heard her swift intake of breath, and felt her fingers reflexively dig into the back of his neck. Oh yeah. He wanted to feel her dig in, tighten up, and hold on . . . all over him. But he knew if he so much as brushed his mouth over hers, they’d never make it off the driveway, so he swung her up a little higher in his arms. “Hold on to me, sugar.”
“My pleasure,” she said, her voice a little throaty again as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
He tucked her up more tightly against him, liking the way she fit. She liked it, too, and started nuzzling the side of his neck.
He growled a little at the skittery sensations her touch sent racing all over his skin . . . and the further tightening of the front of his jeans. He all but kicked down the front door of his beach cottage and carried her straight to the back of the sprawling structure. “Tour later,” he murmured, ducking his chin to intercept her clever little tongue, capturing it in his mouth.
She was the one to moan, and even though he was mere steps away from his designated goal, they made it only to the short span of wall that separated the kitchen and breakfast nook area from the master bedroom he’d built onto the back of the house. He pinned her against the wall, and used the last shred of restraint he had left to capture her gaze. “The last time for you, it triggered a vision?”
She held his gaze, and when she realized he was talking about the last time she’d had sex, he saw emotion rise swiftly in her eyes until they grew a little glassy.
“Aw, sugar, I’m not trying to stir up bad memories—”
“No, I know. You’re trying to keep me from adding to them.” She slid a hand to his cheek. “Thank you.”