I take a bite of my Danish for something to do, and raspberry filling spills out, dripping down my lips. I bring my hand up to wipe it away when Landon’s large hand encircles mine. I look up into his startling eyes. Hooded eyes.

“Let me get that,” he whispers, low and raspy. Then his tongue is gently licking across my lips. Fire licks through me as his tongue pushes through my lips seeking mine. The kiss becomes a duel of passion as we both move closer to one another. His hands release mine to tangle in my hair, and mine find their way up his shoulders to the back of his neck.

After what feels like forever, I break away gasping for a breath I desperately need.

“Remind me to give Fanny a raise later.” His whisper brushes my lips, His nose brushing mine.

“Why?” I ask breathlessly.

“For creating half of my new favorite flavor. Raspberry and Brooke.” With that, he kisses me again.

He lifts me from my chair placing me on his lap. His hands roam up my side till he finds the hem of my shirt and pushes his hand underneath. His hands move up till they’re caressing my breasts. He pushes my bra out of the way, and I hiss out air at the intense sensation of his fingers against me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I’m just”—I pant for breath—“really sensitive.”

He smirks, an evil glint in his eyes. Then his thumb rolls over my nipple, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“Damn, that is so hot. I bet you could come from that alone.”

I moan at the combination of his words and the teasing of his fingers. He kisses down my neck across my collarbone till his lips are hovering over my very erect nipple that is pushing against my shirt.

“Maybe we should try it,” he rumbles, then he takes me in his mouth shirt and all. I let out another moan and he release it. “Damn, how did I not know about this earlier?”

Those words are ice to my fire. I push myself off him and fix my clothing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, confused.

I inwardly roll my eyes. “Nothing,” I say curtly.

“Oookayy,” he drawls out.

I stand up and start clearing the table.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it looks like? I’m clearing the table.”

“The staff can do that.”

“Fanny left early today to go to her granddaughter’s dance recital, and Shannon called out sick.”

“Oh. Here, let me help you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” I stack the plates up, not looking at him.

“Let me help you. You should be resting or something.”

“I’m pregnant not handicapped. I don’t mind doing it really.”

“Don’t touch me!” I shout.

Silence falls around us. Landon raises his hands as if a gun is being trained on him. “Okay, you’re obviously not fine. Why don’t you put the plates down? We can go inside. Maybe you have had too much sun? The baby probably needs you to rest.”