by Amy Andrews
Cade wasn’t quite sure what to say to that as he followed the path of her moist finger into the knot of hair atop her head. His gaze drifted back down. ‘You bake?’
Callie was in too good a mood to let him dampen it. ‘I do indeed.’ She grinned. ‘And I’m damn good, too.’ She stood aside and gestured him inside. ‘Come on in. I’ve just popped it into the oven.’
Cade hesitated, reaching for the self-control he had once been so good at. ‘I just came to give you an update on Trudy,’ he said, shaking his head and keeping his feet firmly fixed to the floor.
Callie’s eyes lit up again. ‘Is everything okay?’
Cade gave a half laugh. ‘Yes. According to Nikolai, everything is going smoothly.’
‘Well, come on, then, you have to come in now. Eat cake and drink wine. We didn’t have a cake today—there should have been cake.’
‘O…kay,’ he said, a little taken back by her frivolity.
Callie wasn’t really given to frivolity. Sure, she could joke around with the best of them but seriousness was more her basic nature. It was funny to see her so…high.
‘Just for a while,’ he said, and made the fatal mistake of stepping inside. Fatal because something sure as hell smelled good in her apartment and it had better be the cake or he was totally screwed.
He followed her down the short hallway into the open-plan living area, almost identical to his. ‘Throw your bag on the lounge,’ she said. ‘I’ll pour you a wine and you can fill me in.’
Cade was determined not to look as Callie reached into the cupboard above the sink for a glass. But he was fairly certain she was naked under her robe and not even a case of rapid-onset blindness would have stopped him looking.
‘That was amazing today,’ Callie said as she placed the empty glass on the cluttered central bench between them. ‘You know, I can see why surgeons have giant egos now.’ She filled his glass and handed it over to him.
‘Thank you. I think,’ Cade said, as he took the offering and sat on the nearest stool.
Things shifted interestingly beneath her gown. It was a deep moss green, the perfect foil for her blue-green eyes and her lush Titian hair, and his gaze was drawn to the way the satiny fabric fell across her breasts, clinging like a lover. The way the subdued downlights added sheen and lustre.
Things also shifted inside his trousers.
He took a steadying breath but the pervasive smell of vanilla infused his senses, intoxicating him more surely than any amount of wine. How could her kitchen smell like a bakery—all soothing and homey—and she look the complete opposite?
Wild and sexy.
A gypsy sent to completely bewitch him.
The shifting in his trousers got serious.
Callie stilled as she became aware that his gaze had drifted to where the two edges of her gown crossed over at her breasts. ‘You’re welcome,’ she murmured, as heat pooled in her belly and between her legs.
Meatloaf singing his usual mix of sex and sin seemed like a perfect accompaniment as her nipples hardened beneath his gaze. His nostrils flared and a surge of sexual power flowed through her veins. Part of her wanted to shrug off her gown right there and then and get down to it, but another part wanted to savour the moment.
Who would have known that anticipation could be such an aphrodisiac?
‘Have you eaten?’ she asked. ‘I can throw something together. Or in forty-five minutes we can just…’ she shrugged and followed his gaze as it dropped to her cleavage again ‘…eat cake warm from the oven.’ Possibly plaster it all over your body. ‘I have ice cream.’
Cade was pretty sure he’d be dead from lack of blood to his brain in forty-five minutes. He’d be wise to get the hell out now but the vanilla and her gown was keeping him in thrall. He put his glass down on the counter. ‘Are you…wearing anything under that gown?’ he asked.
Callie looked down at herself then back at him. ‘Nope.’
‘Do you think maybe…you could go and put something else on?’
Callie feigned ignorance. ‘Like underwear, you mean?’
Cade shook his head. ‘Like layers.’ Lots of layers.
Callie grinned. ‘You don’t like the gown?’ she asked, turning around a couple of time to give him the full three-sixty, her legs flashing a little.
‘Callie,’ he growled.
She came to a standstill and shoved her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not changing.’ She hadn’t planned on wearing her gown to his place but he’d knocked on her door.
Cade took a gulp of wine then stood. ‘I think I’m going to go.’
‘Oh, no, you’re not.’ She laughed and reached across the bench, yanking on his skew tie. ‘Sit. I promise I won’t jump you.’ Yet. ‘Tell me about Trudy and the baby while I clean up.’
Cade acquiesced, falling back onto the stool. It had been why he’d knocked on her door in the first place, after all.
‘The first ultrasound looks good. Sam’s happy from a cardiology point of view and Nikolai’s pleased that the drugs are keeping any pre-term labour in check.’
Callie asked a few more questions as she clattered around, rinsing things in the sink and putting them in the dishwasher. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement, and she set out to make it worth his while. She added an extra swing to her hips, she deliberately dropped a spoon so she had to bend over and pick it up, and when the gown slipped off her shoulder a little she didn’t bother to fix it.
And all the time she talked, kept up the chatter to distract him from the fact that while he was sitting in her kitchen, talking shop, she was steadily seducing him.
‘You want to lick the bowl?’ she asked him innocently, interrupting something he was saying about something she hadn’t really heard because the anticipation had become an actual buzz in her head over which she could hear nothing.
Cade looked at the bowl she was offering him, which was coated in a generous amount of leftover cake mixture. Then back at her and her bare shoulder. He sure as hell wanted to lick something.
‘No. Thanks.’
Callie shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
She’d deliberately kept the bowl till last and the triumph she felt at his dilated pupils when she stuck her finger in and swiped it around the rim of the bowl bordered on sexual. She scooped up a dollop of gooey chocolate cake mix then popped the finger into her mouth.
She sighed and shut her eyes for a moment, mostly because it tasted pretty damn good but also because she hoped it would turn him on. ‘Mmm, so-o-o-o good!’ she said, opening her eyes again.
Cade’s gaze fell on the moist stickiness of her mouth. He should leave. He really should leave. But her mouth, that gown and the heady aroma of vanilla undulated its way past his defences. And he had a hard-on that refused to budge. ‘Smells good,’ he said as he tried to convince himself that denial was good for the soul.
They had an eight-date agreement. His erection would work just as well then. Probably better.
She dipped her finger in again. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
He gave a terse nod. ‘Positive.’
Callie shrugged and scooped another dollop into her mouth, savouring the glorious sweetness on her tongue. ‘Mmm,’ she sighed again. ‘Some things are just worth the temptation, don’t you think?’
Cade shot her a look that said he knew what she was up to. ‘Nope.’
Callie grinned. She put the bowl in the sink, gave it a quick rinse and loaded it in the dishwasher. Then she picked up the dishcloth and wiped down the cleared bench. She knew that as she bent forward to reach his side that her gown would gape a little and Cade would have a bird’s-eye view.
She looked at him from under her lashes as she wiped and his long, slow appreciation of the gape sizzled along her nerve endings. And suddenly she didn’t want to play any more. Or wait for the cake to paint all over his body.
She wanted to act.
She grabbed a teatowel and dried the bench off. When that was done she hoisted h
erself up onto it and in one smooth movement swung her legs round. The satin of the gown was slippery on the marble top and she slithered over until she was directly in front of him. The material had ruched up her bare thighs and she bunched the excess between her legs for a modicum of decency as she placed a foot on either side of him on the arms of the stool.
‘So,’ she said, watching him closely for his reaction as she leaned forward, her elbows on her partially bent knees, her thighs parted, her gown exposing a decent amount of cleavage. ‘What are we going to do while we wait for the cake to bake?’
It was risky. She knew he had willpower to burn and she was already pushing it. Sure, his gaze had roamed over her like hot, sticky rain but he was a grown man—he could easily just get up and leave. God knew, Joe would have been off the stool before she could blink.
Cade eyed the length of bare thigh, followed it all the way down to where it disappeared beneath the satin fabric that pooled on the bench between her open legs, hiding what was at the apex from view. His palm itched to follow the path of his gaze, to feel the smooth warmth beneath it, to push the fabric farther down, to pull at the belt at her waist, to open the gown, to look at her in all her glory, to drink her in.
Just thinking about it cranked his edginess up another notch.
‘Poker?’ he suggested, his voice sounding alien, his throat parched.
Callie raised an eyebrow. ‘Strip poker?’
Cade gave a half smile, admiring her persistence. Other parts of his body weren’t so laid back and he took a deep, steadying breath to stay focused.
Big mistake.
A strong waft of pure vanilla hit him straight between the eyes. His nostrils flared as the milky sweetness oozed through the cracks in his defences. ‘Oh, my God,’ he groaned, inching a little closer to her. ‘It’s you that smells amazing.’
Callie was lost for a moment and then she remembered. ‘Oh, yes, it’s vanilla. I dabbed some on my neck and behind my ears like my mum used to do to me when I was a kid and we baked cakes together.’ Her gaze drifted to the flare of his nostrils. She leaned in a little closer. ‘You like?’
Cade shut his eyes against the temptation but even so the aroma was dizzying and he didn’t know which he wanted more: to kiss her or lick her. His body swayed and when he opened his eyes again he was alarmingly close to her neck, the frantic flutter of her carotid just there, the crossover of her lapels just below, the intoxicating fragrance of vanilla and Callie surrounding him like smoke from a genie’s lamp.
Luring him.
Sitting on the bench, Callie had a slight height advantage. She looked down at him through heavy lids as his warm breath coated her skin in need. ‘Cade,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
‘No.’ He shook his head against the raw appeal in her voice and the urgent call in his blood. ‘No kissing. No sex,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not supposed to be laying a finger on you.’
‘So don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Why don’t you just lean in and sniff me instead? You don’t need your fingers for that.’
Cade flicked his gaze up to meet her. ‘I don’t think that’s the spirit of the arrangement.’
Callie shrugged and her gown slipped off her shoulder a little. ‘I bet a smart guy like you can work around it.’ She shuffled a little closer.
Cade almost heard the twang in his head when his resolve snapped. Damn it. He wanted to bury his face in her neck and lick there so badly he could barely see straight.
But she was right—he was an intelligent, resourceful guy. He’d stick to his plan if it killed him.
He placed his palms flat on the bench on either side of her, determined to keep them there as he pushed his nose against the pulse and inhaled her intoxicating goodness on a deep guttural sigh. It was soft and sweet and he gripped the bench harder as his head spun. His tongue darted out, tracing the buzz of her pulse, and the sweetness on her skin melted against his tongue, rushing through his system like a sugar high.
Sniffing wasn’t kissing. Licking wasn’t kissing. And his fingers were pressed hard into the cold marble.
Cade’s pulse roared through his head as his sense of smell took over, leading the exploration, following the sweet, sticky scent up the hard ridge of her throat, along the line of her jaw and lingering at the point where hard met soft behind her ear. A lock of hair had escaped her upswept hair to brush her ear and he rubbed his nose against it, too.
‘God,’ he muttered. ‘I just want to eat you.’
Callie’s stomach clenched at the husky admission. Her nipples were hard and she squirmed to ease the ache between her legs. His stubble rasped deliciously, beading her nipples even further as his nose travelled to the other side of her face and then explored lower, down the other side of her neck.
She dropped her head back a little so he had full access and she shut her eyes as his nose moved lower and his tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat and along the bared ridges of her collarbones.
The occasional brush of his lips on her skin felt forbidden and decadent.
Cade was operating in pure sensory overdrive now. He was completely enslaved by his olfactory system. When his lips touched cool satin at the point where her shoulder met the outer edge of her gown he turned his face and rubbed his cheek against it. He smelled sunshine with his vanilla.
And he liked it.
It was only when his nose met the V of her gown that he pulled back, and sense started to return. Her eyes fluttered open, a small protest falling from her mouth. ‘Sorry…’ he murmured. ‘I got a little carried away.’
Callie shook her head. ‘Don’t be.’ Then she reached down and loosened the tie of the robe, knowing he wouldn’t. She parted it, pulling the wad between her legs away, letting it ooze off her thighs and slip to the bench on either side. The only place it held on was to the tips of her shoulders and that was pretty damn precarious.
Otherwise she was totally bare to him.
She noticed his knuckles turning white as his gaze drifted from her breasts down her belly to the juncture of her thighs. The ache between her legs intensified. He slowly swept his gaze back up her body until their gazes locked.
The simmer in his whisky gaze dried her throat in an instant. ‘I think I may have spilled some a bit lower,’ she lied.
Cade didn’t move for a moment as the aromas of Callie—vanilla, chocolate cake and woman—mingled in his nostrils and swelled like a symphony in his head. And then he was feasting on her, keeping his palms flat and wide on the bench top as he claimed a ripe strawberry nipple. When she moaned he almost brought his hands to her, lifting them off the bench but remembering at the last moment to stick to his word.
Even if he was making a total mockery of it.
‘God, you taste amazing,’ he muttered against the soft swell of her as he released one tortured peak to pay some attention to the other.
Callie ran a hand into his hair and held him fast as he sucked hard. There were no rules that she couldn’t touch him and she had no intention of not doing so.
‘Don’t stop,’ she gasped, arching her back, pressing as much of herself as she could into the heat of his mouth. Her breasts were incredibly sensitive, revelling in his attention, and, God knew, after the merry dance they’d been on, she was primed to go off at the slightest provocation.
Cade licked in great sweeping strokes from one to the other, paying equal homage, tasting and licking every delicious millimetre of her skin. Her nipples were tight and hard and scraped erotically against his palate.
And her response?
Every little moan, gasp and whimper cranked up the fire in his loins and his erection was just about ready to burst out of its skin. He wanted to push her back against the cold, hard top of the bench, free his erection and plunge straight into her. See her spread out before him, her breasts rock beneath the kitchen downlights, watch her face as she came.
The image filled his head until he was on fire with it.
‘Cade.’ Callie called hi
s name absently, her eyes shut, her face turned to the ceiling as she cradled his head to her chest and floated in a rainbow bubble. ‘More,’ she whimpered. ‘More.’
Cade lifted his head and looked at her. Her nipples were wet and engorged from his ministrations and he wanted to remember this image forever. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and he suppressed the overwhelming urge to kiss her deep and hard.
No kissing.
‘Cade?’ she whispered, and it was gratifying to hear her voice was thready, too. Better still to see the blending of the blue and green in her eyes to one mass of want.
‘Lie back,’ he whispered, his heart racing.
Callie’s pulse tripped as his gaze drifted down her body. The ache between her legs pulsed painfully and it was all she could do not to grab his head and push it down there.
But she was going to last about two seconds if he did that. ‘If you go there…’ she said, licking her lips, her throat dry ‘…I’m not going to last.’
Cade almost groaned out loud as her tongue did the job he wanted to do—swiped across her lips. ‘Lie back,’ he repeated with a half smile.
Callie could feel herself weakening by the second. ‘But don’t you want to…?’
Cade gripped the edges of the bench, the urge to slide his hands onto her shoulders and push riding him hard. ‘Lie. Back.’
Callie lay back. Falling first onto her elbows and then, as Cade’s head descended and his tongue swirled around her belly button, onto her back, the cool satin of the gown spread out around her like a swathe of emerald grass.
Cade didn’t mess around once she was horizontal—he desperately wanted to hear her come apart. His mouth was at the patch of darker red hair between her legs in seconds, drawn by another aroma: the hot, salty tang of woman. He pressed his nose against the soft hair, as he had her neck, but her shakily indrawn breath spurred him lower.
Cade held tight to the bench as Callie bucked, her torso bowing at the first tentative touch of his tongue.
‘Cade!’ she gasped, and he knew exactly how she felt. Halfway between stop-I-can’t-stand-how-good-it-is and keep-going.
Then the time for being tentative passed and he let loose, sucking and licking—hard. Swirling his tongue around the tight little bead that had her crying out his name, raking her fingers into his hair, begging for more. He wasn’t used to doing it no-handed. Normally he used his fingers to pretty devastating effect, too, while his head was between a woman’s legs but, regardless, he could feel Callie building quickly. Her hips lifting, her cries ratcheting up.
