Unexpectedly Hers(37)

“So I ruined your peace and quiet?” Wyatt smiled.

More like her peace of mind. That lazy smile sent her right back to Aspen and the moment Wyatt had talked her into coming to his room, when he’d tugged her close right at the bar. When he’d boldly kissed her jaw just below her ear and whispered a pleading invitation.

Heated shivers raced through her now, begging for her to act on the feelings. “Something like that.”

Snap out of it! She’d been taking his friendly questions at face value, enjoying the exchange, the eye candy, the company. Now she remembered the stupid bet with Trip and her mission. My goodness, she was as gullible as her mom, letting herself wish for a kiss from a smooth talker like Wyatt.

After folding the last ingredients of the icing together, she scraped a spoonful, dipped her finger into the icing, brought it to her mouth, and gave it a lick. “Deee-licious.”

His pupils widened so fast they practically exploded, which spurred her on. Smiling, she dipped her finger in again but, to her shock, he grabbed her wrist.

“Let me try.” He then tugged her hand to his mouth, and closed his lips around her iced finger.

Too far. He knew he’d gone too far, but he didn’t care. She’d finally shed the baggy sweater and put her awesome, milky cleavage on display. That, plus the little smile tugging at her mouth and that damn erotic icing lick had made it impossible for him to stop himself.

Now she stared at him, wide-eyed and stock-still.

“Sorry.” He loosened his grip, wishing she’d dip her finger into the icing again and offer it up. “You made it look so tempting.”

She slowly retracted her hand, wrapping her other hand around it and curling them both against her chest. Almost dazed, really. Very cute.

Trip was right; Wyatt would probably lose the first bet, but maybe not the second.

He watched her body quiver as she snapped back to the present. She didn’t slap him, although she also didn’t offer another swipe at her finger, either.

“We need to wash our hands.” Emma refused to look at him. He sensed her internal battle as she crouched down and sorted through other mixing bowls. After selecting a cavernous metal one, she thrust it at his chest. “Gloves, actually. You should wear gloves before you break apart the cake.”

“Okay.” Wyatt’s body buzzed with need, urging him to sidle up and seduce her. Take your time. He set the bowl down. “Where are they?”

Emma looked at him now, her brows drawn in confusion, like she hadn’t heard the question, or couldn’t remember where she kept them—he wasn’t sure which. He’d clearly knocked her off balance. Unlike most chicks he’d known, Emma didn’t play coy. She seemed entirely unpracticed when it came to flirting and men. He felt protective even as he yearned to scale those walls.

A dilemma he wished his conscience hadn’t raised.

“Sorry. Over here.” She walked to another drawer, retrieved two sets, and returned. “We’ll wear these while rolling the balls, too.”

He quirked a brow and held up the glove. “Sounds kinky.”

So much for his conscience.

Her cheeks bloomed red as strawberries against her creamy complexion. That thought gave him all kinds of ideas, because few things were better than mixing food and sex.

“I didn’t, you shouldn’t . . .” She shook her head and peered at him. “Stop it.”

Grinning, Wyatt held up his hands. “Stop what? Stop having fun?”

“Stop flirting with me. Licking my finger and playing this game.” She pointed that sweetened finger at him and narrowed her eyes. “I know about the little bet with Trip, so you can just stop right now. I’m not interested in you and your little sexual diversions.”

Dammit. How’d she know about his conversation with Trip already? Could he play dumb and deny it? Or should he throw Trip under the bus? Yeah, that. The guy had stacked the odds against Wyatt with the bet, and then gone and told her. The injustice rankled because Wyatt’s interest in Emma had nothing to do with that bet.

If anything, learning a little bit about her past only made her more admirable, and him more curious. “Hold on. I never made a bet with Trip. He proposed one, but I never shook on it.”

She straightened her shoulders, hands on her hips, looking bossy. “I don’t really care, Wyatt. Game over. So, if you want to help with this you can, or not. If you want to come to the care center tomorrow because you really want to, not because it’s part of a plan, then you can come. But this,” she gestured between them, “isn’t happening.”

“Okay.” He told her what she wanted to hear, but her rejection had essentially laid down a challenge. That meant he’d probably just exert more effort to win.