“You have a whole pan of rolls right there. Get your own.” Then he dragged her hand to his mouth.
She pulled back automatically, laughing. But Trace held her wrist deliberately and ate the gooey roll right out of her hand.
When his lips closed over her fingers, when the wet warmth of his mouth registered on her skin, Avery’s breath stuttered. Her smile fell away, replaced by shock. Her gaze jumped to his just as his eyes closed, and his expression took on a whole different look of pleasure.
She forced enough air into her lungs to utter a confused, “Trace . . .”
But then, good God, his tongue stroked her fingers, and he hummed softly. He added suction and moaned, the sound almost inaudible. The warm tug on her fingers and the sight of those lips wrapped around them made her brain stall out. Made her nipples peak. Made everything between her legs squeeze and ache.
She didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to act. An elemental part of her demanded she pull away. But something even deeper wouldn’t let her.
She swayed and grabbed a handful of his T-shirt to stabilize. Then glanced past his shoulder to where Phoebe had taken a seat at the table with Delaney and Ethan.
When she looked back at Trace, ready to break away from . . . whatever this was, Avery found his eyes open and on hers, and the sight shocked her heart. His expression mirrored Ethan’s just moments ago when he’d kissed Delaney so passionately—hot and lust-filled.
Oh my God . . .
All her thoughts of putting distance between them tangled. Those blue eyes burned hot on hers as he sucked her thumb clean, then her index finger, then her middle finger. His eyes fell closed again. His tongue swept across her palm and between her fingers—a sensation that made her crave his mouth between her legs, even though she had no idea what that would feel like.
Avery’s heart pounded in her neck. Her breath rasped in her throat. “Trace . . .”
Dammit, she didn’t know what else to say. Or do. She didn’t even know how she should feel. She wanted to beg him not to stop, yet she wasn’t naive enough to think sleeping with someone working for her was a good idea. Especially not if it didn’t go well, which was more than likely, considering her lack of experience.
As if he could read her mind, regret pinged in his pretty blue eyes. Just a split second of darkn
ess before he lifted his mouth from her hand and lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he murmured with a shake of his head. He covered her hand and rubbing it dry. “I shouldn’t have . . . I got a little carried away. I’m—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips, then stared at them, surprised to find them there. “Don’t apolo—”
“Ask Trace.”
Delaney’s words tossed ice water on the coals burning between Avery and Trace, and the chill cut straight through the center of her chest. She dropped her hand and curled her fingers into her palm. Falling back a step, Avery turned to the cinnamon rolls waiting to be iced, her mind a mess of conflicting emotions.
“Ask me what?”
Trace’s voice moved away, and with her back toward the group, she squeezed her eyes closed against the disappointment.
Delaney and Ethan pulled Trace into a conversation about plumbing requirements for equipment Avery knew nothing about. She washed her hands, regretting the fact that she had to wash off the touch of Trace’s mouth.
Trace’s mouth.
Sucking on her fingers.
Had that even been real?
She shut off the water and shook her hands dry, feeling like an idiotic kid with her first crush. Then busied herself by frosting the rolls, her hands moving automatically after doing it thousands upon thousands of times. She tried to force her mind to engage, to get her even, logical thinking back into place, but all she could focus on was the hum of Trace’s voice in the background—a rich timbre that shivered through her while she floated in a strange haze of confusion.
“I’ll be right back,” Trace said. “I’m going to grab something from the truck.”
Phoebe stepped up to the counter beside her. “Sounds like you had a breakthrough with your cinnamon rolls.”
Avery pushed her mouth into a smile but couldn’t meet her aunt’s eyes, sure Phoebe would see in Avery’s expression what had happened between her and Trace. “I think so.”
“Please tell me this is your last batch tonight.”
“It is. I’m exhausted.”
“Can I box these for you?”