“What do you do for a living?”
Hank dropped the next strawberry completely into the bowl. “Um, I help run our family business.” He stole a glance at her as he rescued the drowning fruit. He shook the excess chocolate off before placing it next to the others on the parchment. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making conversation.” Cassie smiled. “Obviously you know my profession.” She nodded to the trays of food. “And truth be told I was half afraid of what was going to come out of my mouth next if we kept going the way we were.”
“So you weren’t trying to drive me crazy with naughty innuendo?”
She laughed. “Not intentionally, no.”
“Too bad.” He winked. “I was quite enjoying it.”
“Good to know. But for the sake of these desserts I thought maybe I should switch topics.” Cassie swirled her last strawberry through the creamy chocolate, causing Hank to do a double take.
“You’re done?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question seeing as her half of the strawberries had all been dipped and placed in neat rows to dry.
“Occupational advantage,” she said. She leaned her hip against the counter and settled in to watch him work. “What sort of business?”
Hank cleared his throat. “Imports and exports.”
“So you move things in and out?”
His eyes flared. “I thought you were done with innuendo?”
She felt a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “Oh, I didn’t mean . . . I only meant . . .”
“You’re beautiful when you blush.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And you’re correct. I move things in and out. Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but I’ve found it’s more about the angle, I mean route.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Finding just the right spot makes it all the more rewarding.”
A moment passed before Cassie’s head cleared enough to form a complete thought. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered. “At the innuendo I mean.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the century? Hank’s description had made every nerve in Cassie’s body come alive. And the way his gaze had shifted from her eyes to her lips? Finished assignment or not, she’d been sure he was about to claim his payment. But instead of kissing her, he merely reached for the next strawberry and began rolling it through what was left of the milk chocolate.
“There, task completed.” He placed the last of his strawberries on the tray and turned to face her. She assumed he’d be ready for his reward, but the expression on his face was more amusement than lust.
“You have a little . . .” He gestured toward his brow.
Cassie ran her fingers across her forehead until they caught on a gooey clump of chocolate. For the love of God, it was like she was living some middle school nightmare. What was next, toilet paper stuck to her shoe?
“Here, allow me,” Hank said. He reached for the towel she’d left on the counter and gently brushed it across her forehead. But instead of clean, dry cotton on her skin, all Cassie felt was more moist goo. “This was the towel you wiped your hands on, wasn’t it?” he asked, realizing a moment too late that he’d only made things worse.
One thing was certain, this was most definitely a game two could play. Cassie lifted a brow but said nothing. Instead she merely dipped her fingertips into the chocolate that remained in her bowl. Hank’s eyes narrowed as he realized her intent.
“You wouldn’t dare . . .”
But before he could finish his sentence she had dotted his nose with a dollop of chocolate. “Cute.” He reached up to wipe it, then popped his finger into his mouth. “And delicious.”
“Maybe I should try some,” she said. Her voice was husky and once again sounded nothing like her own. But instead of sampling what remained on her own fingers, inspiration struck her and she reached for his. Without taking her eyes off his, she slowly dipped his index finger into the chocolate before bringing it to her mouth. His lips parted as hers did, his eyes darkening as she slipped his finger into her mouth and gently sucked the chocolate from the tip. “Mmmm,” she hummed. “Delicious.”
He drew a sharp intake of air. “You’re full of surprises, Little Vixen.”
To him and her both. In all her twenty-eight years Cassie had never been so bold with a man. Then again, she’d never felt so uninhibited before either. Maybe it was the anonymity or the fact that she was so far from home. This temporary environment not only afforded her the opportunity to step into someone else’s bakery, it allowed her to step into another life. She could be someone else entirely. Someone who wasn’t a nerdy, overachieving, overworked and overstressed Chicago pastry chef with no time for men. Tonight she could be a carefree woman in a small town, enjoying a flirtatious banter with an impossibly handsome stranger.
Still, as exhilarating as it was, this was a role she was unaccustomed to and although she was enjoying their game, its effect was heady. Her stomach fluttered and her skin tingled, and if she’d been wearing heels her legs would have no doubt wobbled. As it was she was finding herself a bit unsteady in her Keds. So as much as she wanted to lean in closer, for a moment at least, she needed to retreat.
“I better put these away,” she said. She picked up the tray of strawberries and headed toward the fridge. She was quite sure her stranger was tracking her every move, but when she closed the door and turned around she realized he was right behind her.
She met his dark eyes and all at once she was transfixed, unable to look away even if she wanted to. It was as though he could see right through her, past the uncertain exterior to the woman who deep down had always wanted more, even if she’d been too afraid to admit it. Her protective shell had far more than cracked, it had completely crumbled under the sheer weight of his stare.
“I believe you have proved me a liar,” he said.
“I have?”
“Mmm, I told you I only need five minutes to seduce you, but our work has been done for nearly ten.”
That was where he was wrong. It might have only taken ten minutes to close the deal, but the seduction of Cassandra Miller had started the instant he’d walked through the door. And more than that, it was working. Because in that moment Cassie was ready for anything. Judging by the look on his face, her stranger knew it too.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and a fission of exhilaration ran through her. Never in her life had she felt so alive, so completely sure of what she wanted. This, this was exactly what she wanted, but more than that, it was exactly what she needed.
Hank dipped his head and touched his lips to hers, softly at first, as if she might break or run or just vanish into thin air. But then his lips parted, and she felt the warm, wet stroke of his tongue as he deepened the kiss.
His fingers rested on her hips, barely touching her, and yet she felt as though she were melting into his hands. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She wanted to feel the weight of him against her, to know he was as affected by her as she was him. He pressed against her and she felt the shape of him, hard against her softness, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been that way, if this perfect man had wanted her this whole time as badly as she’d wanted him.
When he broke their kiss, she was more than ready for whatever came next.
“Come up to my room,” Hank breathed. His lips moved over her jaw and down her throat, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses that left her aching for more. “I have a lovely four-poster bed that’s far too big for one.”
His room, his bed. Sex in his bed. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t want one wild night with this handsome stranger, but sex in a bed was so . . . so . . . normal. She’d done normal. And although normal sex was better than no sex, something told her that the man in front of her was offering good sex, and that was something that was long overdue.
Cassie blinked hard. She took a moment to gather her composure, but like her resistance it was currently scattered all over the bakery floor. Hmm, the floor would work just fi
ne.
When she didn’t answer he pulled back, slipping a finger under her chin and lifting her eyes to his once again. “Shall I take that as a yes?”
“Why can’t we just stay here?” Her voice sounded as shaky as the rest of her. But it wasn’t from intimidation or nerves. On the contrary, for the first time in her life Cassie felt strong and fearless and brave. Still, something about this man made her tremble in the most delicious way.
His eyes glowed with a mixture of amusement and lust. “Believe me, luv, I’d like nothing better than to take you right here, against this door.”
Her heart hammered inside her chest. Did he really just say that? And in an accent that was nearly enough to finish her off? Who was this man who had come into her life as if a direct answer to Olivia’s outrageous suggestion? The images her friend had conjured two days prior flooded her senses. Oh yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Right then and there.
Lucky for her, Hank was a bit more aware of their surroundings. “But those windows don’t have any curtains,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “And I would hate for some random pub-goer to get an eyeful of your beautiful curves as he stumbled home.”
Sex god and a gentleman? This guy was too good to be true.
“Ask me again,” she said.
A momentary frown drifted across his face until realization took hold. He leaned closer and whispered roughly against her ear. “Let’s go up to my room, so I can make you come all night.”
Holy hell, that he didn’t have to offer twice. Cassie took his hand as she pushed away from the glass. In seconds she’d grabbed her keys and had them moving toward the door. She hit the light switch and quickly fumbled with the lock, a task that wasn’t made any easier by the fact that Hank’s lips were leaving a trail of wet kisses down her neck. “Done,” she said as the bolt clicked into place. She turned quickly, too quickly, and stepped right out of her shoe.
Hank glanced down at her footwear, smiling as he took in the sight of a pair of denim Keds embroidered with tiny hearts.
“They were a gift,” Cassie offered. No matter the holiday, her mother never failed to send her shoes. This particular pair was for Valentine’s Day. It hadn’t been lost on her that other women were getting heart-shaped boxes of candy or long-stem roses while she was marking the occasion with a pair of shoes from her mother. But at the moment none of that mattered because the man beside her was Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one.
“They suit you,” Hank said. He dropped to one knee to retrieve the errant footwear. “Seems the princess has lost her slipper. May I?” And if that wasn’t enough to make her feel like Cinderella, in the distance the clock on the town hall struck twelve.
“You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin, are you?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. Instead he simply slipped the shoe onto her foot, then stood to kiss her again. Only this time he wasn’t soft and gentle. This time his kiss was raw and searing. Like he was starving, and she was the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. She followed his lead, their tongues moving together until the heat that pulsed low in her belly turned into a desperate need.
“Let’s go,” he said. His voice was tight with a barely leashed restraint. “Before I have you naked on this staircase.”
Cassie stepped forward, but when she put weight on her foot she winced.
“Did you twist your ankle when you lost your shoe?”
She gave a quick nod. “Just a bit. It will be fine. Nothing that requires medical attention.” Or postponing the sex.
“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he said. Bending at the waste, he scooped Cassie up into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“I believe that should be quite obvious,” he said as he carried her up the wooden staircase.
Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck. The absurdity of the situation registered somewhere in the back of her mind—the chiming clock, the lost shoe, and literally being swept her off her feet—but she’d think more about that tomorrow. At the moment she had far more salacious thoughts on her mind. Because while her handsome stranger wasn’t Prince Charming, and she sure as hell wasn’t Cinderella, something told Cassie what lay ahead was a night fit for a queen.
Chapter Five
The new persona must have been wreaking havoc on his mind. How else could Hank explain inviting the sexy pastry chef up to his room? Henry would have never done that. A fast and furious fuck where he could slink away in the night without any awkward chatter or cuddling would have been his usual MO. The life of a Prince wasn’t as charmed as one might think, but there were definite perks, one of which was the ability to have casual encounters that were buffered by Her Majesty’s most highly trained officers. Lately though, it felt as though he was just going through the motions. Rather like washing his hair. Fuck, rinse, repeat. But this was different. He wasn’t His Royal Highness, he was Hank Green, import-export guy in town for a wedding. This version would have to work for it. Maybe it was the challenge that had adrenaline pumping through his veins, or maybe it was the sight of his sexy chef standing at the counter with her hip cocked to one side, but for some reason he hadn’t been ready to say goodbye. Not yet.
So instead of a quick shag followed by an even quicker getaway, he’d propositioned her. Come up to my room. He had no idea what made him do it. The words seemed to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily, and as they did he realized how much they sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. Might as well have said “Your place or mine.” Even after their banter of sexy innuendo, a part of him had still half expected a swift decline. But while his beautiful stranger hesitated, her teeth nipping her lower lip in a way that had his cock begging to play, the look in her eyes told him she was ready for anything. Her bright green gaze had held his for a few beats then softened as she implored him to ask her again, a request he was more than happy to honor. So I can make you come all night. Christ, he’d sounded like a total wanker. But he meant every word and judging by her reaction, she was more than keen on the offer. So much so that in her haste she’d twisted her ankle, which is how he found himself carrying her up the staircase.
Hank reached the door to his room and all at once the realization that he was about to carry this woman across the threshold hit him. Not enough to quell the raging hard-on beating against the fly of his jeans, but enough to make him rethink their arrival. No sense putting any unnecessary ideas in her head. In his daily life such a gesture would have had a young woman picking out royal china patterns in her head, but his beautiful stranger seemed to be as uncomfortable as he was with the overly romantic, honeymoon-implying gesture.
“Um, you probably need to get your key out,” she said, stiffening in his arms.
Gently, Hank set her on her feet. “Good?” he asked.
She put pressure on her foot and smiled. “Perfect.”
Hank unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. “After you.” He watched as she stepped inside, a look of astonishment crossing her face as she took in her surroundings. According to the portly woman who had given him the key to his room that afternoon, the James Madison suite was the pride of the establishment. Not only was it the largest suite in town, but everything from the canopy bed to the antique dresser complete with wash basin to the oil painting of an antebellum home that hung above the fireplace was designed to reflect the unique heritage and history of the inn.
“Nice room.”
Indeed it was. Hank had booked a standard room, but his head of security had apparently upgraded him on check-in. Something about affording a better view for surveillance. At first he had complained about the change, noting for the hundredth time his desire to keep a low profile. But now that he had his beautiful stranger in his room he was suddenly very grateful for Clayton’s last-minute switch. Because as Hank followed her gaze around the room it wasn’t high-end decor he saw, but possibilities. His cock throbbed as he pictured his sexy past
ry chef spread out across the oversized featherbed, then perhaps bent over the tufted chaise. Of course there was always the en suite where a double-head shower and claw-foot soaking tub waited as options as well.
“Were you expecting a crowd?” she asked with a delicate laugh. The room was a bit over the top for an “average Hank” to have booked for the weekend, but nothing compared to the suite of rooms he kept in the castle. Back home an entire wing of Ogmore was designated as his private apartment. On one hand it was a convenient commute being the length of a carpeted hallway from the “office.” But on the other, privacy was at a minimum. Acoustics in a stone castle were shit for having even so much as a discreet conversation, and with servants lurking in most passageways there was little chance of anything going unnoticed. Add to that the fact that his father and grandmum lived on the other side of the courtyard and essentially Hank was just another millennial living at home.
“There was some confusions with my reservation and I ended up with an upgrade. Although I can assure you, I’m not into an audience,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. Most of his life was spent on display in one form or another, either by design or thanks to intrusive paparazzi. But here in this quaint town, with his sexy little chef, everything was different. It was like they were in their own little bubble.
“So you said, downstairs.” The most beautiful rose color crept over her cheeks, giving Hank the distinct impression she was thinking about something else he’d said downstairs as well.
He tossed the room key on a small table by the door. “And while I wasn’t expecting anyone, I must say I’m rather glad not to be coming back to this big empty room alone. Not to mention the big empty bed.”
“Who says we need a bed?” Her wide innocent eyes were a direct contrast to the words that came out of her mouth.
He raised a brow. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’m not. My life is quite boring.” She turned toward the dresser, affording him a perfect view of her face in the reflection of the mirror. “In and out of the bedroom,” she said. The last part was barely a whisper, as if he wasn’t meant to hear.
Icing on the Cake (Wild Wedding Series Book 2) Page 6