Bachelor Swap, Lacey Black [best short novels txt] 📗

“Love them. Is that bacon?” she asks, grabbing her fork.

“Everything’s better with bacon.” I place a scoop from the other pan, the artichoke and spinach dip, and add a few of the spiced pita chips.

She cuts her scallop into a small bite and slides it through the cheesy butter sauce, grabbing a chunk of bacon as she goes. When she takes a bite, she moans in pleasure, a sound that makes my cock stand up and take notice. “Oh, heaven. These are delicious. I wish you could try one, Cowboy,” she says, piercing a piece of food with her fork.

“Me too,” I tell her.

“Why did you order them if you have an allergy?”

I shrug and add a big scoop of the dip to my plate. “I’ve been told they’re delicious, so I wanted you to try them.”

She seems surprised I’d still order something I couldn’t eat but doesn’t make a big deal. Instead, she scoops the hot dip onto a chip and holds it out for me. I take the whole thing in my mouth, my lips brushing against her fingers. Fire dances in her eyes, which goes straight to my cock.

We enjoy appetizers and chat until our entrees arrive. I chose a fire-grilled filet mignon with sautéed mushroom sauce and Worcestershire mashed potatoes. There are steamed mixed vegetables and warm, crispy rolls with a sweet cinnamon butter too.

“I don’t know what to try first,” she says, taking in her plate. “It’s like food art.”

“Here, try this,” I reply, grabbing a small bite of the tangy potatoes on my fork and holding it out for her.

“Mmm,” she moans, her lips still wrapped around my fork. “So good. I never would have thought of putting Worcestershire sauce in potatoes.”

“Me either,” I reply, taking my own bite. “The chef recommended everything.”

She cuts into her steak, the meat so tender she could probably use a butter knife. “Delicious.”

When our meal is finished, we walk amongst the butterflies once more. After spending another thirty minutes observing the varieties of insects, we head for the exit. Before we reach the door, the manager is there, extending a hand and bidding us farewell. I’ll make sure to add a generous tip to the card charge for both him and the waiter.

“How was your evening, Miss Morgan?” George asks the moment we step outside.

“Perfect,” she coos, resting her head against my upper arm.

We slip into the back of the car and head toward downtown. Kyla’s sitting close—very fucking close. I can feel the heat of her body, smell the sweetness of her perfume, and hear the subtle inhale of her breath. My body is hyperaware of her nearness. All I want to do is take her in my arms and kiss those intoxicating lips.

Kyla shifts in her seat, sliding her bare shin against my leg. The contact goes straight to my groin like a teenager. I reach for the speaker button. “George, would you mind just driving around for a while?”

“No problem, sir.”

My intention is to steal a kiss or two, but the moment I turn in her direction, she seems to launch herself at me. Well, as much as she can with a seat belt on. My good intention is thrown right out the window. Her mouth is hot, her touch even hotter.

Suddenly, all bets are off.

Chapter Twelve

Kyla

I have no idea what comes over me. One minute, I’m tucked securely into Matthew’s side and the next, I’m practically throwing myself at him in the back seat of the town car like a cat in heat.

My mouth lands on his firm and hard, my leg tossed up and over his thigh. My hands dive for his hair. I want to get closer but am restricted. It isn’t until I hear the seat belt release that I even remembered I was wearing it. It’s also then I feel myself moving. Without breaking the contact of our mouths, Matthew maneuvers me until I’m straddling his waist. My dress has ridden up but doesn’t expose anything, and I’m honestly not sure I’d care if it did.

From this angle, we’re able to deepen the kiss. His hands delve into my hair, slightly tugging on the strands as he entwines his fingers within. All that does is make me dig my own fingers deeper into his hair. It’s lush and soft, and when I score my nails across his scalp, he groans in pleasure. Speaking of pleasure, I feel it pressed firmly between my thighs at the moment, and all I want to do is wiggle closer to feel that hard length…everywhere.

I have no idea how long we drive around and make out like teenagers, but when I’m completely breathless and out of my mind with need, Matthew breaks the kiss. My eyelids are heavy, but I’m able to crack them open just enough to see the man who’s slowly changing my entire world. His eyes are dark and wild, so full of the same desire I feel coursing through my veins.

He moves his right hand, cupping my cheek and dragging his fingers down the side of my throat. Goosebumps pepper my skin at the contact, so intimate. “This dress,” he starts, shaking his head when he can’t seem to find the right words.

“What about it?” I ask, breathlessly.

“I’m going to have dreams about it for the rest of my life. First seeing you coming down the stairs, and now, watching it ride up your legs,” he says, moving his hands to my thighs. He slowly pushes the dress up just a little, his large, warm palms cupping my skin.

I close my eyes and just revel in the feel of his hands. They don’t really move any closer to where I ache, which is a little disheartening. “Hey, Cowboy?” I whisper, keeping my eyes shut so I can get through the next part.

“Yes?” His voice is raspy and raw.

“Are you going to touch me?”

When he doesn’t reply right away, I feel my heart drop to my