Page 37 of Hearts at Seaside
The marshmallow caught fire and he blew it out before it charred. “Good?”
Jenna shook her head and stuck out a pouty lip. “Too dark. Here, let me show you.” She reached for the stick and he held tight.
“Golden brown. I’ve got it.” He tossed the marshmallow into the fire and loaded up the stick again.
“Not golden, not brown. Golden brown,” she reminded him.
He held the stick over the fire, turning it slowly until the edges were brown and slightly bubbled, and then he offered it to Jenna. “Golden brown.”
She inspected the marshmallow and shook her head. “See the white on the ends?”
“No one gets the ends, it’s all about the middle.” His competitive nature was kicking in.The ends?How was he supposed to roast the ends and not burn the rest?
She smiled and settled a hand on his thigh. “You sure you don’t want me to do it?”
If he could practically build a boat from scratch, he could roast a stinkin’ marshmallow. He’d get this right if it killed him.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He leaned in and stole a kiss.
When he drew back, her eyes remained closed. “Mm. If only you could cook marshmallows like you kiss.”
She opened her eyes, and he teasingly narrowed his and glared at her.
“I warned you that it wasn’t easy to cook a marshmallow for me. Golden brown is not as easy as it sounds.” She traced the seam of his jeans along his thigh.
“I have a feeling nothing with you is easy.” He smiled to let her know he was only kidding.Sort of.
He cooked three more not-good-enough marshmallows as Jenna danced around him, calling out instructions:Turn it before you burn it! Yes, perfect! Turn it again! Oh no, too dark.Each time her smile faded anew; then her excitement would reappear as he loaded the next marshmallow on the stick. The other couples had long since finished roasting marshmallows and were standing among the crowd by the band.
Jenna planted her chin in her palms. “It’s okay, Petey. Some people are made for kissing instead of cooking marshmallows.”
“I’m made for both,” he practically growled. He set to work on another marshmallow.
Jenna crouched beside him again and began spouting off instructions. He silenced her with another glare, cooked the stupid marshmallow, then turned the stick toward her for inspection.
“Princess, your marshmallow has arrived. Not golden. Not brown. Golden-brown perfection.” After so many imperfect marshmallows, his nerves were strung so tight they twitched. He tried not to let on and forced a smile as Jenna set her mouth in a serious line and craned her neck, inspecting every ripple of the marshmallow.
Her eyes widened and her lips curved into a smile as she pulled the marshmallow from the stick with two fingers. “You did it! You can roast marshmallows as good as you can kiss.”
She popped the warm, sticky marshmallow into her mouth. Her excitement was worth every ounce of Pete’s agitation, which was dissipating quickly as he watched her luscious lips moving. Her eyes closed, and she moaned, as if the marshmallow was orgasmic. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He pulled her onto his lap and sealed his mouth over hers. The sticky sweetness slid over their tongues, dissolving with the heat of their kiss.
“I told you I’m picky.” She was still sitting on his lap, and he was already aroused, and in no hurry for her to move.
“And I told you I could cook the stupid thing.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and cupped her cheek. “You, my sweet marshmallow princess, are very picky.”
She lowered her eyes and wrinkled her brow. “Does that mean you won’t cook marshmallows for me anymore?”
He lifted her chin. “No. It means I’ve memorized exactly what it takes to satisfy you. Sixty-seven seconds on each side, held about five inches from the fire, then twenty seconds with the tip of the marshmallow aimed directly at the flames, but a few inches away so it doesn’t burn.”
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”
She leaned in for another kiss, and Pete deepened it as she opened to his efforts. There on the crowded beach, with music filling the night and the smell of the bay mingling with the smoky fire, Pete felt his world shift into place.
WHEN THEIR LIPS parted, Jenna had to remind herself to breathe. Pete’s kisses made her body hum with anticipation. She was still sitting on his lap, his strong arms wrapped around her, making her feel feminine and safe against his powerful breadth.
“Do you want to dance?” His voice was deep and carried an undercurrent of desire.
No. I want you to kiss me again.“You’ll dance with me?”
