Page 8 of Harvest Maze

I wanted to eat her up.

“I brought you some cinnamon rolls!” she announced, breaking the tension with a bright smile. “They’re cinnamon apple flavored, because it’s fall now. And yes, I know it’s a basic girl thing to have pumpkin in everything, but if you just put that preconceived notion aside, you’ll find they’re the best cinnamon rolls you’ve ever tasted! Even if they are apple, not pumpkin.”

I stared at her.

And then stared some more.

She baked. For me. The way she shifted said that she probably thought I was glaring.

This was what people called rudeness. The socially conventional thing to do was to thank her. But that wasn’t what I did.

Nope, my suspicious side kept me alive this long, and it chose to come out to play right now.

Clearing my throat, I rasped, “Why?”

Her nose scrunched up.

Fuck. Could I be anymore harsh?

“You and I haven’t gotten to know one another since you came to town. I meant to stop over last week, but you weren’t home.” She stuck out the plate. “It’s called being neighborly.”

I frowned at the plate. I ate for nourishment, but those looked…fuck, those looked sinful.

I plucked one off the plate and knew that I was going straight to hell for not shutting the door in her face. I was a very bad man, and she had no business being here. One bite, and sugar washed through me. Sweet and tempting, just like her.

Taking the plate from her, I set the treat back down. “Thank you.”

She beamed. “No problem!”

“That was…good.” Good didn’t even cover it, but it was the best translation my strung-out brain could come up with.

“Oh! I’m glad you like it. Stop in the Salted Biscoff Café sometime, and I’ll make you a coffee that tastes just like that,” the pixie chirped.

I grunted. “I don’t drink coffee.”

Ivry gasped and slapped a hand over her chest. “No coffee?”

I shook my head. No stimulants, nothing to alter my brain chemistry.

Sakra! Then what are you doing talking to her?

Because this was the biggest mess I’d ever been in. My brain was totally fucked, rewired and thinking things I had no business thinking. Like how soon I could throw her over my shoulder and leave town.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well, then stop over some afternoon and I’ll pour you some wine and we can sit on the patio with a cheeseboard.”

“I don’t drink wine.”

Her warm, melted chocolate eyes bulged. Everything about her was sweet, and it was the worst torture I’d ever endured not to take a bite. “No wine? Are you even human!”

She didn’t mean to, but she stretched out her hand and poked my arm. It was playful. Wholly innocent! It sent the beast inside me roaring with possession. One touch, that was all it took. I wanted her to touch me again. I had to physically restrain myself for not grabbing her, hauling her into my hideout, and laying her down on my bed.

“You feel pretty real to me,” she teased. But the smile wobbled on her lips as she continued to watch me. “Look, you probably just came to town for some fishing or kayaking or something. I don’t want you to feel obligated. But if you want some company, I’d be happy to hang out.”

Fishing. That seemed logical. “You fish?”

Her nose wrinkled. Her lips puckered in distaste. But then…she wet them.

My dick slammed against the zipper at the sight of her pretty pink tongue.