Page 62 of Ruin The Friendship
I dutifully take a photo and send it to him right away. When he puts down one of the cookies, one of them must still be a little wet, as he gets some of the blue icing all over his pointer finger.
“Oops,” he mutters, staring at his finger. “Hmm.”
“Oh no, you messed up Trigg’s sleeve.” I point at the arm.
Fletcher shrugs. “Oh, well.”
A devious glint appears in his gaze, and before I know it, he brushes his finger onto the tip of my nose. He doesn’t even try to stop the smile on his face as he glances down at his handiwork.
“If this were red, I’d call you Rudolph,” Fletcher teases.
“You have to clean it off. I can’t walk around forever with a blue nose.”
I can see the shift in his gaze as the workings of a plan take over his features. He hums and holds out his still-covered finger, staring at it for a long moment before sucking it into his mouth.
He slowly licks it clean, and my mouth literally waters.
I’ve never thought that the act of sucking another person's finger was erotic until now, but I would give anything to have his finger in my mouth. My knees wobble, and I clutch the edge of the counter for stability.
Fletcher holds my gaze the whole time, and when he pops his finger out of his mouth, it glistens in the kitchen light.
I can’t even stop the harsh exhale from my lungs. “Oh.”
Fletcher takes a step toward me, wrapping his large hand around my waist. I try to step backward for some reason, but he stops me, leaning in close.
Is this finally happening? Are we really about toactuallykiss? My eyelids flutter, but I hold back from closing them fully. I want to see him until the last second.
Fletcher’s lips twitch as he leans in more, only instead of kissing me like I so desperately want, he presses his lips to the tip of my nose, where the icing is hardening. He swipes his tongue, cleaning off my nose. He rests his forehead against mine for a moment before completely pulling away.
What. A. Fucking. Tease.
“Fletcher,” I whine.
Yes, I’m whining. I’m not above pleading at this point. I don’t want to wait any longer to feel his lips on mine. The smirk that crosses his face gives me an idea. Fine. If he wants to play, so can I.
I swipe a dollop of white icing from the bowl. Without thinking too much, I spread it across my lips and stare up at him with a silent dare. He kissed my nose to get rid of the icing, after all. Two can play at this game, Fletcher Graff.
He raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side while his shoulders shake in a silent laugh.
This time, he uses his thumb to tilt my head back, and I let my eyes fall shut as he leans in, the voice in my mind chantingfinally!
There’s a graze against my lips, but… it’s not right. My eyes open, and Fletcher is dragging his thumb across my lips, cleaning off the icing before popping his thumb into his mouth.
My jaw drops. While yes, he looks sexy licking off the icing again, I’m irritated. What do you mean I laid out a perfect way to get him to kiss me, and he denied me?
“What the fuck?” I groan.
I try to pull back from him completely, but his grip tightens on my waist. Fletcher pulls me close, so I’m pressed against his chest, his lips level with my ear. “You’re messing with my plans, Lydia Ward.”
My breath hitches. “Plans change,” I state coolly.
“Not mine.” He nuzzles his stubbled jaw against mine before pulling away, breaking the tension and leaving me waiting, wanting, panting, pussy pulsing.
I want to yell at him. How dare he leave me like this? I should be humiliated, but at the same time, I’m not. I’mcurious. What does he have planned? Is he really going to work me up like this every time? I don’t know if I canhandle being worked up this much. I might die from anticipation.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out.” Fletcher gives my hip one last squeeze before breaking contact and turning back to the cookies. “I think we should go on theGreat British Baking Show, don’t you?”
How he can so nonchalantly switch from whatever that was to talking about a baking show surprises the heck out of me. He really is calm, cool, and collected under pressure. I, however, am not.
