Page 42 of Merry Mischief List
He fights a smile. “What can I say? I care about the children.”
His eyes don’t leave mine for a moment. Our heavy breaths fill the small space as I struggle not to get whipped cream on his perfectly clean T-shirt.
Wait, why do I care?
I break our staring contest and glance down at my chest. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?”
Porter’s gaze follows mine. He places a hand on my neck and tips my head back, gliding his tongue across my skin. I’m shocked speechless as he licks off every last drop. His tongue drags against the column of my throat, and a soft moan slips from my lips.
I’m pretty sure there was no whipped cream there.
A low growl escapes him, and he pulls away, looking down.
“There, all clean. Let’s go,” Porter says, plucking the whipped cream out of my hand.
He spins and walks away, leaving my mind more tangled than a strand of forgotten Christmas lights.
Where the hell did that come from?
15
PORTER
“So we’re not gonna talk about it then?” Andi asks with a huff as we walk into my place.
“What’s there to talk about?” I reply, trying not to think about how damn good she tasted. And I don’t mean the dessert topping. A single swipe of her neck, and I was tenting in the middle of the damn mall.
Grabbing a rag, I busy myself by wiping down the kitchen countertop, but considering it was Gordan-Ramsay-approved clean when we left, I’m fully aware I look like a psychopath.
“Maybe how you motorboated me in the mall after ruining my chances of markingtwoitems off my list?”
I pause, turning to face her. “We both know you weren’t going to blow Santa.”
She places her hands on her hips. “I might have.”
“Sure, when reindeers fly,” I mumble, returning to the countertop.
“They do, you idiot!”
“Yeah, inRudolph. As infiction.”
“Whatever.” She waves me off, obviously flustered. “The elf was a sure thing!”
My jaw ticks at the memory of pimple face’s mouth being inches from her chest. “Apparently not,” I say smugly, scrubbing at an invisible mark on the counter.
“Oh, good god.” Andi snatches the rag away. “This kitchen is spotless. I would eat off the damn floors, so can you please stop avoidance cleaning? You’re stressing me out.”
“I’m not avoiding.”It’s called strategic deflection.
“Bullshit.” She steps closer, invading my space, and my eyes drop to her neck. Just imagining what it would feel like drove me mad before. Now that I know? I’m salivating. “Why did you stop me earlier?”
“I already told you. I was thinking of the children.”
“Why did you kiss me last night?” she asks, her expression serious.Oh, we’re really doing this.
“Because I… Because you needed to mark it off your list.”
“Okay? And you said yourself when we started this there were some things you weren’t gonna be helping me with.”
