cade
“Okay, now add
the flour, but—” It’s too late, a puff of white exploding in Winter’s face
before I can get the words out or reach to flip the switch. “You need to turn
the mixer to low.”
She
spins around, her cheeks covered in random white spots, some of the flour
dusting her hair. “You couldn’t say that before, ‘Now add the flour’?” Her
voice is low, her eyes narrowed, and I take a step back.
“Well,
yeah, I guess I could’ve, but I just sort of figured you’d know enough not to
add loose flour to a wildly spinning mixer.”
“Oh,
you figured I’d know enough for that, huh? Even after I told you I’ve never
made cookies before? Even then?”
She’s
advancing on me now, and I shouldn’t be retreating like a scared animal. I have
more than a foot on her, a hundred-plus pounds, but she looks pissed. And that
glint in her eye tells me she’s up to something. I glance down at her hand,
seeing a measuring cup half filled with flour, and I realize what she’s going
to do a split-second before she does, but not soon enough to dodge it.
A
cloud of white powder hits me straight in the face, and I cough as I inhale
some. Wiping away the dust from my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh,
well, I just figured you’d know enough to duck.” She shrugs and offers me a
saccharine smile.
“I
don’t think you want to start this with me, baby.”
“In
case you missed the flour in your face a second ago, I already started it, baby.”
I
stare her down, then reach over, grabbing the bowl of melted chocolate—my mom’s
secret ingredient in her cookies—and dip my fingers into it. Winter narrows her
eyes at me and takes a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
“Where
you goin’? I thought you wanted to get messy.”
“No,
I wanted you to get messy. I didn’t have a choice with this,” she says
as she gestures to where the flour hit her. She darts her eyes down to the bowl
of chocolate, then back up to my face. “Don’t, Cade. You’re going to get me
dirty, and I have to be at work soon.”
“You
maybe should’ve thought about that before you threw a scoop of flour in my
face.” I don’t wait for her response before I smear the chocolate down her
cheek to her jaw, then all the way down her neck and into the deep V of her
shirt, stopping when I feel the swell of her breasts. “Whoops.”
“You
did not just do that.”
“Looks
like I did.” I shrug, putting the bowl back on the counter before I lick the
chocolate from my fingers. She focuses on the act, her lips parted. I lean
closer to her, drop my voice, and gesture to the spots of her skin that are
covered. “You want me to clean you up, too?”
Glaring,
she gives a jerky shake of her head, but a flush works its way up her chest to
her neck—one of the tells she’s getting turned on.
I
step closer, backing her into the corner until she’s pressed against the
cabinets behind her. “Sure about that? It wouldn’t take much. Just a lick or
two. Maybe a couple sucks. We’d probably have to take your shirt off, though,
and your bra, too. I really got down in there.”
Her
head’s tilted back as she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling in
quick succession from her labored breathing.
I
lean into her space, lick up a path from her neck to her ear. “I think you do.
I think you want my tongue all over you, don’t you, baby? I got you all dirty.
Seems only fair I clean you up.” Before she can respond, my mouth closes over
her shoulder, my tongue tracing along the chocolate I smeared there. By the
time I’ve dipped into the neckline of her shirt, my tongue in the valley of her
breasts, her nipples are pressed tight against the material, and she’s got a
white-knuckled grip on the countertop behind her.
“Want
me to stop?”
I
wait a second. Two. And when she gives the slightest shake of her head, I take.
Gripping her face in my hands, my mouth covers hers, my tongue slipping inside.
She groans into the kiss, her hands finally coming up to clutch my forearms.
“Wait.”
She wrenches her mouth from mine, turning her head to the side. “Cade, wait.
Your sister.”
I
focus on licking every stray ounce of chocolate I can find, her hands a
counterpoint to her words as she holds me close. “Not home. Gone till four.”
“Shit!
Four. I have to be at work at four!”
“We’ve
got time. Now stop talking.”
I
peel her jeans and panties off, then lift her onto the counter, desperate to
feel her around me. With one hand, I fumble with the button of my jeans, the
other busy between Winter’s thighs, rubbing soft circles around her clit,
getting her ready for me. She’s moaning, her head resting back on the cabinets,
and the sight of her there, half naked in my kitchen, is too much. Too fucking
much, and I can’t get my goddamn jeans off.
When
she notices, her hands are there, opening my jeans and yanking my boxers down
just far enough to pull me out. Her hands are around my cock, pumping slowly,
and I need inside her now.
*****
Well, I definitely haven't gotten to that part yet! Whoa! A BIG thank you to everyone at Berkeley Romance for allowing me to participate in this awesome celebration!