Sweet Christ! He was ready to indulge, and it had nothing to do with chocolate.
He gripped her hips and lifted her onto the wooden table.
“If you thought that first chocolate kiss was good, you won’t know what hit you with the second.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Why do you say that?”
“Because your second kiss is coming from me,” he rasped, taking her face in his hands.
Their lips came together in a chocolate cinnamon explosion of desire. The spicy heat of the cinnamon and the lush richness of the chocolate lingered on her tongue. It was like kissing the X-rated version of Mrs. Claus. And not only did he want more, he wanted everything, all of her. She sighed into his mouth, and he pulled her forward, her ass teetering on the edge of the counter as their bodies came together. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around him as his hard length strained against the confines of his jeans and pressed between her thighs.
They were like horny teenagers, hands exploring, bodies rocking, hips thrusting. Each lick, each caress, every sensual slide of his lips across hers sent him spiraling out of control.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he bit out between heated kisses.
Yes, it was a cheesy as hell line, but he meant it. And he’d never said anything like this to a woman.
For him, sex was sex. He didn’t have the time or the desire to get to know a woman beyond how fast he could get her on her knees with his cock in her mouth. He should hate the one-night vixen currently wrapped in his embrace. He should be plotting his and Tom’s escape from this bumble-fuck nowhere mountain town. But when he kissed Bridget Dasher, he entered an alternate universe, and another Soren Rudolph emerged. A Soren who only wanted this one-night vixen’s kisses.
Bridget pulled back, and her mahogany gaze had grown darker and more resonant.
“And I’ve never—” she began, then stilled when a shrill beep cut through the kitchen’s Christmas cookie-scented make-out haze.
He stared at her, unable to look away from her wild mane of hair. In the throes of cookie-scented dry-humping, he must have released her makeshift bun. With her kiss-swollen lips and heaving chest, she was an angel and a vixen, all tied up into one irresistibly beautiful woman.
Irresistibly beautiful woman?
What was wrong with him! He didn’t think about shit like that!
He took a step back, coming to his senses.
This had to stop. He was a strong man—strong in body and mind. Bridget was an attractive woman. Who wouldn’t want her? But from this moment on, this kissy-face bullshit had to end.
Bridget pressed her fingertips to her lips, then shook her head with a woozy swivel before glancing from the oven to the pile of chocolate.
“I need more kisses.” She shook her head again. “I mean, the chocolate kisses, for the cookies. You should unwrap a few more.”
He nodded. Good, they were back on track. She was the maid of honor baking cookies, and he was the best man, helping while sporting a raging hard-on.
Dammit!
He blew out a tight breath. “Why don’t you get the cookies, and I’ll be ready with the kisses for your cookie. No, strike that! I’ll unwrap a few more chocolates, then put the damn things on the peanut butter balls.”
Christ! He was not a bumbling idiot—ever—except, it seemed, when it came to Bridget Dasher.
“They’re blossoms now. They’re not balls anymore,” she answered, remarkably straight-faced considering the relatively humorous nature of all this ball and blossom talk.
Cookies, kisses, and balls! This had to stop or else he’d have no choice but to bend her over the counter and take her hard and fast like he did the first time they’d made love.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as every cell in his brain seemed to be going haywire.
“Whatever they are, I’ll de-blossom them with a kiss,” he answered.
She cocked her head to the side. “De-what?”
God help him!
“Get the cookies out of the oven. I understand what I have to do.”
She glanced around the kitchen as if she just realized she was in a kitchen.
She popped another gummy bear into her mouth. “I better get the cookies. I think that’s the timer.”
He watched her closely. “I literally just told you to do that.”
What was going on with her?
Luckily, the baking part of her brain kicked in, and she sprang into action. She removed the tray of cookies from the oven, then