Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) - By Caitlyn Robertson Page 0,2
the front door, ignoring Koru’s whistle and Daisy’s giggle from behind the counter.
Dex squeezed her fingers as they walked. “Are you going to reprimand me?”
“Yes.” She walked out into the large cobblestone yard. They were near to closing and the tables and chairs in the tiny outdoor mall were mostly empty, but customers still filtered out of the second-hand book shop further down, and she didn’t want an audience. She walked past the hairdressers and the closed Italian restaurant to find a quiet corner.
“Okay,” Dex said. “Do you need to borrow my handcuffs?”
She cast a glance over her shoulder. Usually his police officer’s uniform made him look more authoritative, but when he spoke to her like that she had trouble erasing the vision of him wearing it to bed. At least he didn’t have the hat on yet. She couldn’t think straight when he wore the hat.
She gave him a mock glare and said, “Behave,” before turning back to the mall. There, she thought, under the white bougainvillea that covered the latticework at the end. Although it was technically autumn, and in the South Island the leaves would be turning, here in the Northland of the North Island the breeze warmed her face and the fantail flitting about on the top of the fence chirruped in the sunshine.
She turned to face Dex, not willing to give up teasing him just yet. “Now. I’m not saying you have to wear tights, only that I thought it would be nice for everyone to come in medieval dress.”
He placed his hat on the nearby fence post. “I’m not wearing a dress.”
“You’re being dense on purpose. You can pick an historical figure like Robin Hood, or what about Richard the Lionheart or—”
“Honeysuckle Summers.” He spoke firmly as he caught her hands in his and linked their fingers. He moved closer, the hot look in his eyes making her shiver. “I couldn’t care less what the guests are wearing at our wedding. But when I get married to the girl of my dreams, I’m going to be wearing a suit—and I’m talking about a smart, expensive, tailored one, not a clown’s suit, not a suit of armour, and certainly not my birthday suit.” Tightening his fingers on hers, he lifted her hands and pinned them to the wall above her head. “Okay?”
Her heart hammered at the thought of him naked. The way his gaze raked her didn’t help her calm down either. “Gosh, you’re wilful today,” she observed, breathless.
“And you’re incredibly sexy.”
“Don’t think you can get around me by…hmph…”
He smothered her protest with his lips, and Honey gave in and closed her eyes.
Chapter Two
Honey went limp as Dex kissed her languidly, his lips moving across hers with tantalising slowness. She sighed as he brushed his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him, her heart increasing its pace as it usually did whenever he kissed her like this. The subtle scent of his aftershave—mixed with the aroma of warm muffins and coffee—arose from his skin, and his five o’clock shadow rasped against her cheek, but she didn’t complain. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway—when he got in this sort of mood, protesting rarely had any effect, even if she’d wanted him to stop. Which she didn’t.
He released her hands, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his ruffled hair. She glowed inside as he pressed himself up against her, his desire for her rapidly becoming evident. Dexter Concannon was kissing her. He wanted to marry her. The novelty still hadn’t worn off. She might boss him around and act as if she’d expected all along to marry the sexiest cop in the whole of New Zealand, but deep down every time she felt the physical evidence of his passion it made her want to giggle like a six year old.
And now his hands were wandering, pulling her hips against him, moving up to cup her breast beneath the white apron. She shivered in response, and her fingers tightened in his hair. Her nipple peaked as he brushed his thumb over it, and she groaned, satisfied when he gave an answering murmur of pleasure.
He moved his hips against hers, and she couldn’t help but arch against him. She ached with need. What was it going to feel like when they lay naked together, his young, strong body pressed against hers? She’d trail her fingers down his back, investigate the toned muscles, rake her nails through the hairs