Her arms however, kept the memory of the way his hands had caressed her body.
It took a few minutes for her to regain her composure, and by then all three men were in and out of the kitchen as they grabbed coffee. Each of them tried to swipe icing off the rolls as they passed by.
“Let them cool!” she yelled when Brock came in for the second time.
He held his hands in the air. “I was just going to ask when they would be ready.”
“They’re ready when they’re ready!” She shoved him out of the kitchen.
“Heartless wench!” Bentley yelled. “Give us food!”
“Man hungry,” Brant growled, slamming his hand against the table. “Man need food!”
She shook her head and tried to keep the laugh in, but when they all started arguing she knew it was useless; they were walking, talking chaos.
Finally, she grabbed a few plates and piled the cinnamon rolls high, then deposited them in the middle of the table.
Hands went surging forward.
Within minutes, all of the cinnamon rolls were gone.
Even the icing was all but licked from the plate.
“So, I have a completely nonsexual proposition for you.” Brant leaned back and patted his stomach. “Live with me, bake for me, I’ll make you a very happy woman. Cars.” He spread his hands wide. “Money. Furs.”
Bentley nodded encouragingly. “You’ll be our kept woman. But you have to bake every day. Don’t worry, we’ll give you a safe word, just in case things get too crazy.”
“Who needs a safe word for cooking?” Brant asked, licking his finger while he winked at Jane.
“Food’s erotic.” Bentley blinked. “You’re almost as clueless as Brock.”
Brock groaned slowly and started banging his head against the table.
Both men ignored him and continued to argue about what Jane’s safe word should be.
“Potato!” Bentley snapped his fingers.
“There’s nothing liberating about a damn potato!” Brant argued. “How about ‘cherry’?” He smirked. “Get it? Cherry?”
Brock stood abruptly and started grabbing all of the plates, making more noise than necessary as he fumbled with the forks and left the dining area.
“Better go help him, Cherry.” Bentley winked. “Fuck me, I love sexy nicknames.”
She knew he was kidding but she was still embarrassed. With a weak wave of her hand she went into the kitchen, only to find Brock doing the dishes.
For someone who had been doing nothing but cleaning up after other people her entire life, it was like watching porn.
His denim shirt was rolled up to his elbows; tanned forearms flexed as he dipped a dish into the water and began to wipe.
A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it.
He looked up at the sound and a smile spread across his face. “Imagine what would happen if I had a larger…plate,” he teased.
Her face probably did look like a cherry.
Clearing her throat, she grabbed one of the wet dishes and started drying it, only to have him pull the towel from her hands and jerk the plate away from her.
Great, he was mad again. Just when she’d gotten him to smile.
His large body loomed over hers, his blue eyes flashed and then his mouth slammed against hers.
She wasn’t ready for it.
Then again, she imagined as his tongue slid past her lips, a woman could never be prepared for a kiss like this.
It was as if he was claiming her, consuming her, and the very last thing she wanted to scream out was “Cherry.”
His body pressed so hard against hers she could feel his arousal strain against his jeans. Jane gripped his shirt, bunching it in her hands as he deepened the kiss with a growl, only to abruptly pull away.
Chest heaving, he whispered a hoarse “thank you” before walking out of the kitchen.
She didn’t move.
She couldn’t.
“Everything okay in here?” Bentley poked his head around the corner then grinned. “Oh, never mind, I can see things went just fine. Need to go take a cold shower?”
Jane glared.
“Don’t deny it. I can practically smell sexual arousal when it hits the air. Just remember to use protection; I’m too young to be an uncle.”
“Don’t you have a job?” Her voice was stupidly weak.
“Yup.” He nodded. “And I’m so good at it and so rich that I rarely need to be in the office. Lucky you.”
“Yes, just what I was thinking. Lucky me.”
He smirked. “Do you want help with the rest of the dishes? I can dry while you overanalyze the panty-melting kiss he just gave you.”
Searing heat blazed her cheeks, and she turned around and shoved her hands into the soapy water.
Bentley grabbed a plate and started drying. “Did he use tongue?”
Water sloshed over the edge of the sink.
Bentley tilted his head and nodded. “That slick bastard. He dark-horsed me, didn’t he?”
“Hunh?” She blinked over at him and dipped a plate into the hot soapy water.