She rolled her eyes, picked up the aforementioned sweet and spicy cupcake, and took a huge bite. Samiah did her best to school her features, but when a bit of pepper caught at the back of her throat, she couldn’t help but cough.

“Okay, okay. You win,” she said, gulping down milk. “This is awful. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Admit it, you were going for the shock factor.”

“Maybe,” she said with a laugh.

He held up one with light green frosting. “Now, this white chocolate and honeyed pistachio is more my speed.”

Samiah looked on as his teeth sank into the moist cake. She suddenly found herself breathless, awareness blossoming within her chest, vibrant and wild and uncontainable.

“You have frosting right here,” she said, pointing to the side of his mouth. He started to reach for it, but she caught his wrist. “Let me.”

She leaned over and closed her mouth over his, scooping up the speck of sugary icing with her tongue before slipping it between his lips. A groan climbed from somewhere deep in his throat as his palm immediately wrapped around the back of her head and brought him to her. Samiah straddled his lap, clutching his face between her hands and holding him steady as their tongues teased and tarried, playfully vying for dominance in their sensual game.

His hands slid up her stomach and then over her breasts. He cradled them, gently squeezing and releasing before capturing her nipples between his thumb and forefingers and tweaking them through the fabric of her T-shirt. She felt him growing hard between her legs and it took every single drop of willpower within her not to grind against him. If she did that her clothes would melt and she’d have her naked thighs around his waist in a matter of seconds.

Wait? Was that a bad thing?

Yes, yes it’s a bad thing.

At least it was for now. Sex would take this to a level she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to reach.

With one last swipe of her tongue inside his insanely delicious mouth, she braced her hands against his chest and pushed away.

“Slow,” Samiah said. “We’re supposed to take this slow, remember?”

He let his head fall back against the sofa cushion and released a pained groan. “I remember.” He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. “We never actually defined slow. You drive a Mustang GTE. Your definition of slow has to be pretty close to mine.”

“What’s your definition?” she said.

“One more kiss like that and the clothes come off.”

And now she needed an ice pack for her underwear.

“I can work with that definition,” Samiah said.