“Grayson—”
He kissed her. And she didn’t even pretend she wasn’t wildly excited about his kiss. Her hands locked around him and she kissed him back, opening her lips, enjoying the thrust of his tongue, enjoying the heck out of him.
He groaned, a low, ragged sound that she absolutely adored because she knew she was turning him on. Only fair really, his kiss had her breasts aching and her whole body tensing.
His hands had settled around her hips. She could feel his fingertips right over the curve of her ass. He’d pulled her close, and there was no missing his growing erection. His mouth pulled from hers, just an inch. “You taste like chocolate.”
Her lashes lifted. She stared up at him.
“Sweet and sexy, my perfect sin.” His eyes gleamed down at her.
Unable to help herself, Jemma pushed up on her toes and she lightly licked that delectable scar that sliced across his lips.
His hold tightened on her. “Jemma…”
“I have something I think you’ll like.” Since he kept talking about sin, there was a treat she wanted to give him. She eased out of his hold and hurried to the back. She found what she wanted—what she hoped he’d adore—and hurried back to him. “It’s from my…special reserve.” Very few people knew about her reserve. It was something fun she’d made for a few of her friends—an idea that had been created one drink-filled night. And she’d kept up the reserve ever since that fateful date because she liked the challenge of making new, sexy chocolates.
And all of these chocolates are sexy. Sexy enough to drive a person wild.
She held up her offering for Grayson. “Since you like chocolate…” This one was a special treat—milk chocolate, caramel, sea salt for kick…
Grayson bent and took a bite of the chocolate that she offered to him. His lips pressed to her fingers in a quick kiss.
Her heartbeat thundered.
Then he gave that groan again. That sexy, ragged groan. “Delicious.” The desire in his gaze was shining even brighter and she didn’t know if he was talking about the chocolate—
Or me.
“Orgasm,” she whispered.
“What?” His eyes widened.
“I, um, that chocolate…it’s called Orgasm.” And she was blushing. Crap. So much for playing it cool. “My special reserve.”
She still had a little left in her hand.
But he bent and took it from her and when she felt the light rasp of his tongue on her skin, Jemma shivered.
“I like that reserve,” Grayson murmured. “One hell of a lot.” His head cocked as he studied her. “But I think one good orgasm deserves another, don’t you?”
Oh. My God. Yes, yes, I definitely do—
The bell over her door jingled.
She wanted to kill whoever was in that doorway. Painfully. Slowly. Grayson had turned at the jingle and he was staring at the door, too.
Staring at Matthew.
Matthew…who was holding flowers in his hands and looking miserable.
Matthew glanced at Grayson, gulped, then muttered. “Oh, shit.”
Grayson growled. He took a step toward the other guy, but Jemma grabbed his arm and held tight.
“Jemma…” Matthew didn’t move. Just kept looking miserable. “I wanted to apologize. For last night. For being…such a drunk jerk.”
“It’s all right,” she said, voice soft but flat.
“The hell it is,” Grayson fired back.
Matthew took a few cautious steps toward her counter and he put the flowers he held—yellow roses—near her register. “I picked these up from Silver Bells. They’re yellow—for friendship,” he emphasized with a quick, nervous glance at Grayson.
Grayson just kept glaring.
Matthew exhaled and straightened his shoulders as he said, “Dude, someone wrecked my ride. My head still feels like shit today, and I’ve got a giant bruise on my stomach where you punched me.” Matthew swallowed, the click of his Adam’s apple overly loud. “I’m suffering, okay?” His stare focused on Jemma. “And I hate that I said that shit to you, Jemma. I’m sorry.”
He actually sounded as if he meant his apology, so she said, “Thanks, Matthew.”
“You’re a class act, Jemma. And when I get drunk, I say stupid crap. It won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” Grayson warned darkly.
“It won’t. I swear.” Matthew hurried for the door. “I’ll, um, just let myself out.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Grayson kept glaring as the guy ran away. Then he picked up the flowers and glared at them, too.
Jemma laughed. “Grayson…”
“He seriously thinks he has a shot with you.”
“He does not.” Even Matthew wasn’t that clueless.
His glare on the flowers became even worse. “I bet you don’t even like roses.”
“Um, actually, I don’t.” He’d surprised her. “I like Forget-Me-Nots.” Something about the simple beauty of a Forget-Me-Not had always appealed to her.
Grayson pursed his lips. “And Silver Bells—where is that?”
“Right around the corner. It’s the local flower shop.” Right. Like he hadn’t figured that out. She gave a quick shake of her head. “We’re still on for tonight, right? I mean—our date?”