You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub by Cora Blu Page A

clean. Certain he would’ve placed it on her lips, she frowned.
    A sinister gleam filled those wild eyes. “You wanted that?” He teased her again, and she bit her lip, suppressing the urge to lean in and suck the swipe of chocolate off with her tongue over that delicious lip. “Would you care for a lick, Kenya?” he offered, dipping his finger in the pudding, dragging the fudge sauce over the spongy cake, and swirling it through the pink strawberry glaze.
    Her legs uncrossed from the building pressure.” No, the cake is fine.” Liar, liar, liar. She wanted him to smear it over his chest, so she could climb over the seat, straddle his lap, and lick him from top to bottom. Relax, you just told him to slow down, your automatic good girl default response.
    “Taste it for me then,” he suggested, scooping a fork full of cake. She opened her mouth, leaned in, and accepted the cake. He’d plucked it from the fork and dipped it in the fudgy sauce, holding it between his two fingers. When she leaned back he licked the residual chocolate covering the pad of his finger, setting those aluminum blue eyes caressing her lips along with the chocolate. She could feel her body begin to ooze like the fudge slipping from the cake’s center.
    She raised a hand over her mouth certain she had chocolate on her teeth, “That’s indecent,” she said looking around licking her lips hoping no one heard her moan. “Who makes a cake that rich?”
    “You should always have the best,” he told her, and it held a promise that he’d make certain he’d be the one to give it to her. The restaurant’s dark space offered a variety of opportunities for her not to be good much longer. Wanting to kiss this guy, she ignored the pulse of arousal between her legs. This guy is trouble.
    Kenya licked her lips absently under the glow of candle light. The music played in her hair slipping down her neck to her ears, while Jonathan played with her mouth, teasing her with forkfuls of the rich cake. Her one hand's fingers threaded through his in his lap. Pushing the plate away, he closed his eyes and angled his head back until he rested against her shoulder, listening to the music.
    Was this guy real? When the music stopped and the lights came up Kenya, found that she’d leaned against him as well, relaxing under the gentle music.
    “Ready to go, pretty lady?” he asked.
    Kenya caught a glance of his watch, seven forty-five. The man stuck to his word of one hour.” Sure,” she said, holding her hem as she scooted from the booth, Accepting Jonathan's hand, their fingers weaved together. They left the restaurant.
    Inside the Bentley, she touched Jonathan's hand, bringing his attention to her. “I wanted to offer my condolences on your young friend...the one you said you'd just buried that day...” she offered gently and flexed her fingers over his, and continued, “was he terminal?”
    The moment held swollen in the air as Jonathan's face fought to remain expressionless. She reached out to touch his face, could see he fought something, and pulled her hand back. 
    “Suicide,” his voice trailed off along with his attention out through the windshield. He stared at nothing through the throng of cars as if waiting for approval to finish the sobering tale. “He blamed himself for his parent's divorce,” he said. She caught the tightness in his jaw under the parking lot light streaming through the car's window. He turned those eyes on her across the cabin of the car and her body reacted on impulse threading their fingers together. She held their hands pressed to her heart, allowed him a moment he probably hadn't given into on his own to mourn his friend. That chiseled jaw had held firm under the obvious pain he hid in his heart. She'd offered the only thing she had…quiet. He stared out the window over the car’s hood, not looking at anything in particular, just staring. Quiet pressed at the windows, over her face, down on her feet leaving no surface