Semi-Sweet On You (Hot Cakes #4) - Erin Nicholas Page 0,76

as she was concerned, Cam was two for two in this kitchen tonight.

But he didn’t really ask her a question. Maybe he’d been kind of asking permission though, because his hands dropped to the front of her blouse and started unbuttoning.

Great idea. Her hands went to the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it up, putting her palms against the hot bare skin that covered his ribs.

He groaned against her ear as she explored the contours of his abs. He pushed her blouse off her shoulders and she dropped her hands only long enough to let it slide to the floor.

Then he was kissing her neck and across the top of one shoulder. He cupped that opposite breast in one big hand and Whitney sucked in a quick breath. He kneaded the flesh through the silk cup and ran his thumb over her hardened nipple, while pulling the bra strap out of the way of his mouth. The strap slid down her arm, making the cup of her bra fall partially away from her breast.

He gave a low growl as he looked down, then teased her nipple with his fingers, plucking and rolling.

Hot shocks of sensation jolted through her and she tightened her knees, squeezing him.

“Oh, I like that,” he told her roughly, pulling on her nipple again.

“Cam. Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He dipped his knees, putting his mouth to her nipple and sucking.

It was relief and torture at the same time. It eased the ache there but started a new one pulsing between her legs.

“Cam!” She was louder this time.

His tongue licked over her hard tip as his hand squeezed her hip. He kissed his way up her chest and over her shoulder to her neck where he sucked lightly before he dragged his mouth to hers again.

Her fingers bumped down his abs to the front of his jeans as he kissed her. His tongue slid along hers and she worked the button on his jeans loose, then the zipper. She had to touch him. She slipped her hand past the denim and cotton a second later, gliding along the hard, hot length of his cock.

His breath hissed out as he ripped his mouth from hers. He pressed into her hand even as his hot gaze collided with hers.

“Whit.”

His voice was tight. He sounded like he didn’t have enough air to even say the word.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and squeezing.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

He put his hands on her shoulders, tipped his head back and dragged in air. Then he dropped his hands to her wrists and pulled her hand from his body.

“Wha—” But she didn’t need to finish the question. She saw it in his face. He’d changed his mind.

“We need to stop,” he told her gruffly.

“No.” She pulled out of his grasp and grabbed the bottom of his shirt attempting to pull him in again. If she could get her mouth on his she could keep him from talking.

For some reason she sensed that she should keep him from talking.

He wrapped a hand around her wrist and held her. “Yes. Stop.”

He reached for the bra strap he’d slid from her shoulder and pulled it back into place.

“What? Why?” She demanded as he stepped back.

He wasn’t out of reach, but his body language was saying clearly that he didn’t want her to reach out.

“We need to just be friends.”

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Whitney blinked at him.

He waited for a few beats, giving her a chance to respond, she assumed. But then he said, “Whit? Just friends.”

She nodded. “I heard you.”

“So that’s okay, right? That’s good? What you want?”

She wet her lips, looked down at herself—her skirt hiked up, her blouse on the floor—then at him and the very obvious erection behind his open fly.

“No, not good,” she said.

He blew out a breath and rezipped his pants. Then he tucked his hands into his back pockets. To keep from reaching for her maybe? “Why not?” he asked. “You were the one who was against the idea of us dating again.”

She nodded. “I’m against dating, yes. But I can honestly say I would very much rather have sex in this kitchen than talk about my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s in this kitchen. If being friends means talking about that, or my family being a bunch of assholes, or how you think my personal and professional priorities are all screwed up then… no. Not really interested.”

She pushed him back and slid to the floor, smoothing her skirt down as she went. She bent