Last Kiss of Summer

by Marina Adair

  Betty Crocker didn’t wear matching black lace panties, or even a black thong. His pie girl was a purist, skipping all the topping and going au naturel.

  “I thought you invited me here to say thank you,” he said, knowing that even though this was the best fucking thank-you he’d ever receive, he couldn’t do it.

  “I did.” She pulled back; her eyes were heated and her lips wet. “But I also invited you here because I want to know what it’s like to be with a good guy.”

  “Kennedy, I’m not—”

  “The right good guy for me, I know.” She rocked her hips in this sexy little move that caused her to press against his erection, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “But you make me feel good, and this feels too right to stop. You get to me,” she said, and she didn’t even sound mad about admitting that he was right. “Even better, you get me.”

  He cupped her cheek gently, loving how soft she felt under his touch. How perfectly she fit in his arms. “Which is why this could get complicated.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Not tonight.”

  He sure as hell hoped she was right, because she reached down and tugged at the hem of that sweater, and it went up, up, and off, falling to the floor and leaving her in nothing but a black bra.

  “Tonight is just a tasting,” she said.

  And since Like was taught that it was always ladies first, he forked off a piece of her favorite pie and held it out to her lips. “Well, then I guess we should start with your favorite.”

  Instead of taking the fork, she gave a wicked little smile that nearly knocked him off the chair, and ran her lips across the pie, coating the lower one with just enough filling to make it shine. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

  Luke figured, what the hell, if apple and freaky red vegetable pie was ever going to rock his world, it would be licking it off the hottest lips in town.

  Suddenly, all for new experiences, he leaned in for a taste, then a little nibble, and holy shit! “It’s incredible.”

  She blushed a pretty shade of pink. “It’s not a Gold Tin winner, but I think it’s pretty good.”

  “It’s perfect,” he said honestly and went in for another taste.

  “Wait,” she whispered, leaning back to grab her phone off the counter. One minute she was straddling him, the next she was aiming her phone at them as if to take a selfie.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Capturing a moment,” she explained. “Every recipe in my Life’s Icing Cookbook has a picture to remind me of the perfect moment, to help me remember.”

  He smiled. “And you want to remember me kissing you in your kitchen?”

  “No.” She pressed her lips against his. “I want to remember the moment you went back for seconds when a vegetable was present.”

  He heard the faint click of the camera, tasted the tart filling on her lips, and knew he wouldn’t need a picture to remember this. The image of her straddling him in nothing but filling and lace would forever be tattooed behind his eyelids.

  Because it was perfect. The kiss. The pie. The way Kennedy was making these little sighs, letting him know that, yeah, she was feeling it, too. It was like a sweet treat and a wet dream all wrapped up in one addictive, hot experience.

  Second helping? He went in for a third, and a fourth, and by the fifth nip he was a goner. So gone, he didn’t care if this blew up in his face. He wanted Kennedy, and he wanted her for more than a night. Most important, he wanted her naked on his lap.

  Trying a little nonverbal communication of his own, he slid his palms up to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the puckered tips, then beneath the lacy cups. In a move that was all kinds of awesome, he dipped the fabric down, her breasts spilling right out over the top.

  With a growl, he bent to appreciate them, taste them, listening for what she liked—and what she loved, running his tongue across her nipples and not stopping until she was arching against him and releasing these sexy little sighs.

  And that’s when things got interesting, because Kennedy was as much a team player as she was a master with her hands. Reaching under his T-shirt, she skimmed her hands up his chest, touching every inch, until she tugged it over his head and tossed it to the floor. With a wicked little smile, she trailed her nails down his stomach, the muscles bunching in anticipation as she went over the waistband of his pants and lower. Running along the line of his zipper with enough finesse to have him bucking into her hand.

  “Jesus, Kennedy,” he gasped, resting his forehead against hers.

  She held him there, delivering gentle kisses, nothing more than a whisper, while making short work of his belt and zipper. By the time he bucked again, which was about a second later, those fingers he loved so much were around the length of him, cool and sure, gently stroking and caressing him from base to tip and back down.

  Taking him right out of his head, and his world, crash-landing into hers. A week ago this would have been mind-blowing foreplay, but after sharing stories, exposing parts they both normally kept hidden, this felt like more.

  One stroke from losing it, Luke took her hands and placed them around his neck, pulling her until there wasn’t enough space between them to breathe. Then he slid his palms down her back to her ass, lifting her just enough that when he set her back down, it created a friction that had her head tilting back in pleasure.

  “Tighten your legs, sweetness,” he said, lifting her again, and when she did as told, he slid her back down faster, barely letting her rest before she was on the move back up.

  “Please, Luke, I want you now,” she begged.

  Grabbing a condom out of his back pocket and pushing his jeans down to his hips, he was covered and ready, lifting her up and ready to slide home, when he paused. “Say it again.”

  She bent forward until her hair spilled over her shoulder, and her breasts brushed his chest, then she gave him the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “I want you, Luke.”

  He wanted her, too, but he wanted something else first. “The other part, sweetness. I want to hear the other part.”

  Her face held the cutest expression of confusion. “Please?”

  “Such manners,” he whispered and then gave them what they both wanted, until all there was to do was enjoy the sensation of finally connecting.

  They both sighed, and he could actually hear her heart, thumping wildly, and matching his own.

  “Are you calling me a good girl, Luke?” she asked against his lips. “Because right now I feel the best kind of bad.”

  Snagging his mouth with hers, she kissed him deep and long, making it one of those all-night kind of events that made breathing impossible. Good thing he didn’t need air, not as much as he needed to feel her move.

  Taking her hips, he started a slow rhythm, letting her find her balance on his lap, until they were both moving as one. As he pushed up, she pressed down, meeting him thrust for thrust, creating enough friction that he could feel her body tighten and coil around him.

  Watching her take pleasure was driving him crazy, but the way she was curling her hips was quickly driving him over the edge. He tightened his grip, trying to slow down before it was over way too soon, but either his communication skills were lacking or she was done listening.

  He’d put good money on the latter, since every time she’d rise up, she’d get those perfect tens just out of sucking range before sliding back down with a smile.

  Shop Girl was teasing him.

  So the next time she rose, Luke grabbed her waist, holding her there, then pulled her into his mouth, sucking until she was quivering against him. And when she was right there, on the brink of exploding, he reared up and slid all the way to the hilt.

  “Oh God!” she screamed out.

  Her body began to tremble with the beginnings of an orgasm. But Luke didn’t let up, he slid his hand between them, finding that sweet spot and applying enough pressure that her breathing became choppy and her eyes slid shut in pleasure.

  “Look at
me,” he said. “I want to watch you as you come apart in my hands.”

  Her lashes lifted, and the second his gaze locked on hers, he felt her body shake and then break loose and fly. With that pretty word please on her lips, followed by his name. And that was enough to break what little control he’d managed to hold on to, and Luke followed her over the edge—

  And into a world he wasn’t sure he’d want to leave come morning. A world that was as simple as it was complicated.

  * * *

  “That’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kennedy said, sliding onto a stool at the counter, sighing at the delicious soreness.

  The early morning sun peered through the blinds, warming the tiles beneath her feet while the view in front of her was hot enough to melt the polar ice caps.

  Luke stood at the sink in nothing but bedhead, scruff, and yesterday’s jeans, which were zipped but not buttoned, and ready to give at the simplest tug. The man knew how to pull off the morning after with as much swagger as the night before.

  He glanced over his shoulder and delivered a dimple that had her good parts sighing. “And you haven’t seen my best side, sweetness.”

  She’d seen all of his sides last night and couldn’t say which was her favorite, although looking at his backside ranked pretty high. Right between his funny side and his sweet side. “I was actually talking about a man doing dishes in my kitchen.”

  “Then get ready to swoon, because breakfast is almost ready.” Which explained the skillets on the stove and the heavenly aroma in the kitchen.

  Kennedy rested her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “You cook, clean, and make house calls? Be still, my heart.”

  “I aim to please.” He dried off his hands and brought two steaming mugs of coffee to the counter. “Which is why I was trying to be quiet, so you could get another few minutes of sleep, before I surprised you in bed.” He grinned. It was a wicked grin. “Again.”

  Luke had done more than surprise her last night; he’d spoiled her for other men. Sure, he was an incredible lover, but it was the tender moments in between that made her nervous.

  This thing between them couldn’t last. She knew that. She also understood that if he was looking for something more permanent, she wouldn’t be the kind of woman to inspire that kind of commitment. She was unable to do it with her perfect match, or even her own mother. The one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. Which left Kennedy painfully afraid that she was missing that elusive quality that led to forever.

  Finding out that she was right, that she was unlovable, from a man who obviously had an incredible capacity to love, as she’d seen with his friends and family, would be too painful to survive. So she took the moment for what it was, committing to memory the warm aroma of the coffee, the way the sun cast a glassy haze over the kitchen, and the sleepy expression on his face that made him look softer. More relaxed. Like this was where he was supposed to be.

  In this kitchen—with her.

  Kennedy was becoming more attached—she could feel it. The way he treated her, the way he made her feel, even the way he looked at her, like right now, as if she were special. Which made her feel special.

  She didn’t know how to slow down what was happening between them. Being with him last night, sharing stories about her childhood, waking up to him in her space—it all felt so good.

  “I hope you like peppers,” he said, sliding a fluffy omelet out of the skillet and onto a plate. Grabbing two forks, he set breakfast between them, the heavenly scent making her stomach grumble. Her mouth was watering, too, but that had more to do with the wide shoulders and rippling abs on display.

  “You do know peppers are a vegetable, right?”

  He took a bite and washed it down with coffee. “You’ve been talking to my mom.”

  “A little.” She paused. “A lot actually. I really like your mom.”

  “She’s nosy, doesn’t understand limits, and drives me crazy, but she’s always there, cheering me on no matter what. And there were a lot of no matter what’s when I was growing up, so now it’s my turn to be there for her, make sure she’s happy and taken care of.” He chuckled. “Not that she makes it easy.” He studied her for a moment. “How are things going at the shop?”

  Kennedy was caught off guard by the question, flustered to the point that she wasn’t sure how to respond. They’d both purposefully kept the conversation away from business, because that seemed to be their trigger. But maybe after last night, it didn’t have to be.

  “Is Mom still lifting trays and working long hours?” he asked.

  “Oh,” Kennedy said, feeling equal parts relief and disappointment. His concern was for Paula. “I told her no more lifting the trays, and after about an hour in the kitchen, I send her out to run the front of the shop, which usually turns into her sitting down and gossiping with one of the customers.”

  “Thank you. She would have kept pushing and…” Luke gave a long, tired sigh. “I worry about her and my aunt. A lot. I hate the thought of the two of them in that big house alone.”

  Kennedy wanted to point out that he needn’t waste his concern. Those women could not only keep that big farmhouse running, but run the entire country if they put their minds to it.

  “If she pushes too hard, she has a flare-up and…” He shook his head. “She hates it when she’s stuck in the house, and I hate it when she’s in pain and there is nothing I can do to help.”

  There was a protective quality to his tone that made Kennedy gush. Wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who cared for her with the same fierce devotion.

  Kennedy looked at the thoughtful breakfast, then at the beautiful man who’d made her last two days magical, and a little tingle raced down her spine.

  “The mornings will get colder and colder,” he said, mistaking her shivers for a chill. “Nothing but my shirt isn’t the warmest choice.”

  “You weren’t complaining last night,” she teased.

  His eyes went hot, running the length of her. Stepping around the counter, he came up behind her, running his hands down her arms, warming them as he went. His front pressed into her back as he leaned over to whisper, “I’m not complaining now. I just don’t like seeing you cold.”

  Cold? Kennedy was on fire, a result of being wrapped in a warm cocoon of sexy, yummy man.

  “Thank you for breakfast.” Kennedy turned her head to give him a languid gentle kiss on the lips. “This is sweet.”

  “Thanks for dessert.” Luke kissed her back, and when he was done, Kennedy was breathing heavily and sitting on his lap, her feet dangling off the side. “It was hot.”

  One arm was around her, pulling her against him, the other resting on her thigh, his fingers gently massaging the muscles and melting her bones. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, which was fine since she was doing a little touching of her own.

  “Tomorrow night Hawk and I are having a little get-together at the bar, to celebrate our new hard cider,” Luke said. “Come with me.”

  The heater must have kicked on, because suddenly it was so warm in the kitchen, it was hard to think. Hard to process what he was saying versus what he meant, and she felt like she was suffocating.

  This wasn’t just a simple get-together at his bar. Word around town was this was an invite only, VIP party for vendors, distributors, and select guests. It was a cocktail kind of event that would probably make a few local papers, and maybe some bigger ones.

  It wasn’t the fanfare that had panic curling around her neck; it was that Luke had asked her to go with him. On a date. In public. To celebrate the release of a line he might not be able to continue when she signed the contract with Cosmo.

  She wasn’t sure how he’d react when he found out, but the uncertainty was worrisome enough that she didn’t tell him about the deal when she could have. But Kennedy was still reeling from last night, trying to figure out what they were in private. Who they were without the complication of business. An
d who she was on her own.

  “You don’t have to make this more than what it is,” she said, studying how small her hands looked against his chest.

  Luke’s hand covered hers. “It’s just a date.”

  She looked up. “Is it?”

  His gaze said it was more, and she took comfort in that. It was scary to be in this, whatever this was, but terrifying to think she was in it alone.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow night is a big deal for Two Bad Apples, and for me. My dad and I talked about this day for what seems like ever. Hawk has gone all out and we put a lot into this launch, so it will be packed. You can meet a bunch of locals, drinks are on the house, and”—he cupped her cheek—“I’d like for you to be there.”

  This side was her favorite, she decided. That genuine, vulnerable part that he kept hidden. She’d seen a glimpse of it when he was with his family and even then she felt drawn in. Having him open up to her like that was too tempting to resist.

  Kennedy had shared a part of herself with him last night, and now he was offering her a chance to experience an important part of his life.

  “Sundays are my busiest day, so I have extra prep on Saturday night,” she said. “I might be late.”

  Luke kissed her neck. “I’ll be the sexy one with the great ass, waiting behind the bar.”

  Chapter 13

  Luke watched as people mingled and chatted about Two Bad Apples Hard Cider. There was enough buzz to know that they had a hit on their hands. From the way Rogers kept grinning and hanging on Hawk’s every word, Luke knew that even though the night was only getting started, this was their deal to lose.

  “Help me out, Jason,” Luke said, turning his attention back to the booth and his guest. “I know you don’t want to deal with the harvest, so tell me what you need to say yes.”

  When Jason Stark had e-mailed saying he had news, Luke had invited him to the party, certain that he’d sold Jason on the proposal. The guy had left their meeting relieved by the possibility of someone else taking the apples off his hands. Only now that he was here, ten feet from Rogers, delivering the worst news possible, Luke regretted that decision.