Page 5 of Sweet Passions at Bayside
She pulled her finger away, laughing.
“What the heck was that?”
“Splenda!” She tapped the powder into her glass and set the bangle on the table beside her other bracelets. “I hate Equal and that’s about all anyone ever has. I used to carry sugar, but I needed too much of it. So…Splenda it is. Do you want some?”
“Depends what you’re offering,” he said under his breath.
“Splenda, silly.” She took a long drink, and his entire body came alive as she licked her plump lips. “Mm. That hit the spot.”
I’d like to hit your spot.
He needed to get a freaking grip. It had been much easier to control himself when Emery was hundreds of miles away. He set his drink on the table and cleared his throat, as if that might help to scatter his dirty thoughts.
“Aren’t you happy that I weeded?” she asked cheerfully. “Now you can just sit back and relax with me.”
He followed her gaze to the garden, remembering something she’d said about weeding earlier, when he’d been too busy checking her out to process it. His stomach knotted at the sight of the plants he’d spent all morning planting lying in a pile on the dirt.
“Well?” She blinked up at him with a proud, enthusiastic expression. “Great, right?”
A disbelieving laugh fell from his lips, and he turned away. He pushed a hand through his hair, stroked his beard, and ground his back teeth together in an effort to quell his frustration. When he faced her again he hoped his expression was casual enough to mask his irritation.
“Oh no. Did I do it wrong?” Her eyes shifted to the plants she’d dug up.
She sounded devastated, and it took his frustration down fromHoly cow, my plantsto wanting to take her in his arms and make her smile again. Before he could think of the best way to handle the situation, she bent over in front of him, reaching for the plants—and exposing her gorgeous butt again.
“Should I have put them in a bucket or something?”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “No buckets. Didn’t you have clothes on before? I think you need to put something on.”
She looked up at the sky. “Why? It’s gorgeous out. And you don’t have a shirt on.”
He muttered under his breath. “Never mind.” The confused look in her eyes turned his insides to mush. “Okay, doll, time to teach you the difference between three-toothed cinquefoil and weeds.”
“Three-toothed what?” She put her drink down and set her hands on her hips. “Oh no. I killed your weeds and you wanted them, didn’t you? I’m so sorry!” She threw her arms around his waist, crushing her softness against him. “I told you I have a black thumb. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
Heat radiated from every point where their bodies connected, lighting him up like a bottle rocket. He reluctantly peeled her arms away and guzzled his drink. When that didn’t cool him down, he dug into the glass for ice and rubbed it over his chest.
Her eyes opened wider. “You’re so mad you’re sweating? I really do suck. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and knelt beside the pile of plants, trying not to think about hersucking, or that slinky little bathing suit, and patted the ground beside him. “It was an honest mistake. I’m not mad. Come here, doll.”
She squatted, resting her forearms on her thighs, which pushed her breasts together and made them nearly pop out of her top.
“Don’t look at my boobs.” She adjusted her bikini top, which did nothing to help. “Thegirlsalways want to come out and play.”
“Geez, Em. Put a shirt on.”Before I take them up on their offer.
“Youput a shirt on.”
“I’m not the one with overzealous tatas.”
She smiled. “Did you just call my boobs ‘tatas’?”
“Would you rather I said ‘jugs’?”
“No. I hate that word.”
“Boobs? Breasts? Knockers? Melons? Cupcakes?”
