Oh, Fudge (Hot Cakes #5) - Erin Nicholas Page 0,3

through her as he took in what she was wearing.

The same outfit, essentially, that he’d stripped her out of the last time he’d been here.

I love this fucking sweatshirt. The way it hangs off your shoulder, tempting me with these sweet tits right underneath. He’d hooked his finger in the neckline of the sweatshirt and pulled it down underneath her left breast. He’d pulled her bra up and then fastened his dirty-talking, hot mouth right on her nipple.

Now that nipple tingled with the memory and the sight of that mouth just a few feet away.

Piper and Whitney both looked in the direction that Paige was clearly looking.

She grabbed them both, forcing them to look back at her before the entire class swung to look at Mitch.

“Don’t—”

But it was too late. The other twelve people in the room turned as if they’d choreographed it. Mitch didn’t even blink. All he did was lift one hand in a little wave.

Even that made her hot.

He was laid back. God, she loved that.

She needed that.

Not that she needed him. Or wanted him. Not like that. She didn’t want a man. Not long term for leaning on or anything like that. She shuddered. She was twenty-two, for God’s sake. In spite of the fact that her mother and grandmother were convinced she was going to never love anyone the way she loved cats—a fact she hadn’t disputed—she had time.

But she appreciated spending time with laid-back people. And if those people also said deliciously dirty things, and did deliciously dirty things, to her while also making her laugh, then… yeah, that was good. Really good.

Before he headed out the door and got back on the road with his truck pointed south. Very far south. Out of reach and out of you-should-bring-him-to-family-dinner-on-Sunday range.

She couldn’t help but smile as everyone turned back to face her, their eyebrows up, a mix of questioning and curiosity and oh, good for you. That mostly came from Piper and Max—the big, burly gay man who looked the exact opposite of anyone you would see in a yoga class but who had amazing core control and balance.

Yeah, Mitch Landry was something to look at.

Hot. That was just the best word. Hot. Rugged. He clearly worked outside and was completely comfortable in worn denim and t-shirts that molded to his lean, hard, muscled body that could do things that she hadn’t ever had done to her before.

He was older than her. Twenty-seven to her twenty-two. And his, ahem, experience showed. She also appreciated that. Along with his laid-back-ness.

She knew more about his sexual skills, of course, since 90 percent of the time they’d been together they’d been naked and doing a lot more than talking.

But when he’d asked for her number and she’d told him that she wasn’t looking for anything serious he’d said, “That mouth, those eggs, and you don’t want any strings attached? I take back everything I’ve said about the perfect woman not existing.”

Yes, he’d complimented both her mouth—and the blow jobs it had given him—and the eggs she’d made him the next morning. Well, at 4 a.m. when they’d finally taken a break and realized they were hungry. He’d added a shit ton of hot sauce to his, but he’d said that had nothing to do with the eggs and everything to do with the fact that his Cajun roots had ruined his taste buds for anything less than a six on a zero-to-ten heat scale.

Then he’d looked her up and down and said that was why when he’d seen the blond who was a ten out of ten on the hot scale he’d had to have her.

It was corny and predictable. But even as she’d rolled her eyes, she’d laughed and maybe even blushed a little. Mostly because yeah, he’d had her.

“So looks like the guy is here to check… your heating system,” Piper said, stepping forward onto Paige’s mat and putting her hands on her shoulders, making Paige focus on Piper’s face. “I’ll finish the class for you so you can go talk to him.”

“Oh, um…” The guy and her heating system...

“He’s not from here,” someone in the class said.

“I want to get his card though,” someone else—someone female—said.

That snapped Paige out of her stupor.

Shit. She couldn’t have Appleby-ites standing around gawking at Mitch and wondering what he was doing here.

What was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be here for two more days. And it was still early. Or, at least, it wasn’t past closing time