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She closed the door behind her and followed him to the kitchen. “Not a clue. It’s your care package.”
“What kind did you get?” When he turned to face her again, he’d done up a few buttons on his shirt. It didn’t do much to eliminate the temptation. She knew what lay underneath.
She looked at him, puzzled by the question. “I didn’t. She sends me things like new clothes. Today it was a little black dress she swore would look great on me.” Though, it was already tight around the middle, and wouldn’t fit in a couple of weeks. She really needed to figure out soon how to tell people. “She only sends cookies for you.”
“I can’t believe I never knew that. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I know how to make cookies.”
“But this way you wouldn’t have to.” Logan cut the tape off the outer box and pulled out a plastic container filled with lemon bars. He popped the seal on the lid and grabbed a bar. Powdered sugar fluttered to the counter. “I’m not eating these alone.” He grabbed a napkin from the holder on the counter, placed the pastry on it, and handed it to Jodie.
“If you insist.”
“The only downside to these? There’s no way to eat them without making a mess.” He took a bite off one corner. White floated down, dotting his fingers, shirt, and chest.
She could lick some of that away. Instead, she forced a playful laugh and stepped around him. She grabbed utensils from the drawer. “You’re not trying hard enough.”
“You’re going to eat these with a knife and fork?”
“You’re jealous you didn’t think of it first.” She made a production of sectioning off one piece, spearing it, then shaking the loose confectioners’ sugar off before popping it in her mouth.
“Show off.” He pinched a bit of lemon cream onto his finger and smudged it on her cheek.
This time her laugh was genuine. “You’re such an asshole.” She swiped at her face and brought her fingers away sticky. Her breath caught, and her throat went dry, when she looked up and met Logan’s gaze.
His dark eyes seemed to bore into her, making her pulse race.
“What?” She intended the question to be playful, but the waver in the single word betrayed her.
“You missed a spot.” His voice was gruff. He grasped her wrist, and electricity raced through her. “May I?” he asked.
“Yes.” Jodie’s thoughts were so muddled, she didn’t know what she was agreeing to.
He raised one of her fingers to his mouth, sucked in the tip, and traced his tongue along the pad. She whimpered.
“You like that?” he asked.
God yes.The best response Jodie could manage was a nod. In the back of her mind, a familiar voice reminded her this was wrong. She didn’t listen. Didn’t care to.
He licked her middle finger clean next. Each swipe over her skin drilled to her core. He dipped his head toward hers, and the tantalizing scent of soap and spice filled her senses.
Logan flicked his tongue over her cheek, where he’d smudged the lemon bar moments earlier, then kissed a line to her mouth.
She groaned against his lips.Don’t do this.She silenced the mental voice. This tiny taste wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She interlocked her fingers at the back of his neck and pressed her body to his.
His hard form, from his shoulders to his legs, was unyielding. He moved his hands to her hips and nudged her, until her back hit the counter. He lifted her to sit on the Formica and pushed between her legs. His hard length nudged her mound.
Jodie dragged her nails along his shoulders, needing something to grip. His tongue slid into her mouth and danced with hers. They broke apart with a gasp—his or hers, she wasn’t sure.
Logan rested his forehead against hers. “This is a bad idea.” His voice was breathy.
“Supremely.”
“You’re my sister.”
She’d cringed in the past, hearing that, but never like this. “Stepsister. We’re not related by blood.”
His chuckle was strained. “You’re a wicked temptress.”
