Turning back, she didn’t make eye contact as she headed to the door. “We’ll be waiting outside for you when you’re done being a prick,” she said calmly, and Grady’s barely leashed temper spiked again, his pulse pounding like the gallop of hooves through his ears.

She had one foot out the door when he said, “Wait.”

His arm shot out, his fingers lightly circling her wrist, and he watched her in profile as she glanced down at where he had her shackled, then glanced at him, cool as a fucking cucumber. There was about three feet separating them as he gave a gentle tug. She went with it, but she was stiff, and she stumbled a little, her shoulder bumping into his sternum, but it didn’t matter—he barely felt it as cookie dough and the rough jerk of her breathing filled up his senses.

Grady’s hands found her face, his palms sliding onto her cheeks, then his fingers funneled into her hair, and even though her eyes still flashed blue murder at him, she was lifting toward him and he was lowering toward her and their lips met and he groaned as his mouth slanted over hers, opened, demanded hers open, too, groaning when she let him in, when her tongue touched his, when it licked along his lips, when her mouth moved hard and deep and frantic, spiraling heat and lust to his core—to his abs, to his thigh, to his ass.

And all the way deep inside his balls.

How he broke away from her, Grady would never know. But he did—a very deliberate move. “Now you look like we’ve been fucking,” he said, the growl in his voice scratching like razor blades in his throat.

Panting hard, she stared at him for long beats, her gaze a curious mix of lust and calculation before she slid her hand to his neck and tugged, pulling him in for another brief, hard kiss. She nipped his bottom lip as she pulled away, and Grady reared back, cussing under his breath.

“Ow,” he said at the hot little streak of pain, his tongue automatically touching the spot. Her gaze flared as it followed the movement, and she was still breathless as she said, “Now we look like we’ve been fucking, you asshole.”

Then she turned on her heel and left him standing there, his pulse roaring, the aroma of cookie dough in his nostrils, and the taste of blood on his tongue. And fuck if he wasn’t more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Which was just what he needed about five seconds out from spending the afternoon with her parents.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen