I stand back and obviously check him out. Playing with my lips again, I let my eyes drift over his body, and I don’t even have to pretend to enjoy the view. He jokingly poses for me in different commanding positions, like he’s yelling at the cameraman or calling action or cut, and then he does a frustrated growl that makes me laugh and inch forward. His smile somewhat fades when he notices my wicked grin.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” he says again.

My heart pounds a few extra beats. I keep my eyes locked with his and slowly straddle him. My inner thighs rub tight against his hips, my butt settles on his knees. There’s a fair amount of distance between our upper bodies still, but I have to yell at myself to stop. Keep away from the bulge! I will not let this backfire on me.

I rest my hands on the back of the chair, balancing on his legs. “Why not?”

He gulps. “Huh?”

“Why won’t you kiss me?” I bat “innocent” eyes at him and his jaw clenches.

“You…you have bad breath.”

“The worst, huh?” I wet my lips. “I’m pretty sure it’s spearmint gum.”

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“I won’t kiss you either.”

His hands twitch. He’s white-knuckling the armrests. He shuts his eyes, blows out a breath, and I let my heart dance in my chest. Why don’t I try to seduce him anymore? Why don’t I flirt as much? It’s amazing. The challenge of making yourself completely irresistible—and the victory lap in Chocolateville afterward, it’s enough to make me grab Lord Landon and throw in the towel.

But winning is more fun.

I lean in, making sure to keep my lips from pressing any part of him, and rake my tongue across his ear. He shivers underneath me, muttering, “SundanceSundanceSundance” under his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” I roughly whisper. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“No.”

I slowly take his lobe between my teeth, still careful about not touching my lips to his skin, and nibble till I hear him groaning. It doesn’t take long.

“How about now?” I ask. He shakes his head, but his hands have moved from the chair to my thighs. His grip is tight. Like painfully, pleasurably tight. I don’t have to exaggerate the whimper that rises from my throat.

I lean back and wait for his eyes to open. When they do, he grits his teeth and says a strong and firm “No.”

His determination is adorable, and I lose seductive for a second and run my hand over the bill of his cap. I pull it backward, watch his gaze drop to my lips, to my throat, down the front of my shirt, and my breathing speeds up. I want him to want me. I want him to want me so bad he can’t help himself. I want him to want me like he used to want me—like he can’t have me, but he’s taking me anyway.

I want strawberries and whipped cream sex. And I want it now.

My tongue tentatively slides out, and I lean forward and drag the tip across Landon’s chin, up his lips, over the tip of his nose, and pull it back into my mouth after I feel his hot breath on the hollow of my throat.

I’m about two seconds away from losing the Bahamas. But then Landon curses under his breath, and he wraps his hand around the back of my head and crashes his lips into mine—tongue first.

He’s so commanding and aggressive, it’s setting my entire body on fire. I’m at the gates of Chocolateville already and we’re only kissing. But there they are, glowing and taunting me. Stupid gates…I’m supposed to be in control here.

“I can’t,” I mumble around his lips. I can’t lose. He needs to lose. He starts grunting something too, but I have no idea what. We’re both talking, and his mouth moves to my collarbone, which he has never loved as much as he loves it right now.

My nipples tingle.

They need to stop that.

His hands run up my ribs.

My nipples buzz.

They zap.

They scream.

And his thumbs taunt back, right underneath my breasts, running lines across the lower wire of my bra. So close but not touching, so close but not touching, so close but not touching, and my nipples are getting so mad they’re yelling at my hands now. Grab his damn thumbs!

“You shut the hell up,” I tell them, then press hard against Landon’s chest to try to get them some relief, but it doesn’t work. It just makes it worse. I’m about to grab them myself, but Landon’s mumblings finally compute in my head.

“I want you,” he growls, setting my loins ablaze. Hell yes, just take me right here in this director’s chair. His teeth press into my bottom lip, pulling and pulling, and I bury my nails in the back fabric of the chair, panting and moaning and yelling at myself to hold out for a few more seconds. Just a few more!

“I want you,” he says again. He grabs hold of my shoulders, nuzzles into the crook of my neck, hot breath washing over my flushed chest, and my nipples perk up like the key to Chocolateville is dangling over them. I almost say, “Just do it, damn it,” but he may count that as me losing, so I grind my teeth together, slam my eyes shut, and force my sweaty body to stay perfectly still on his lap.

He shifts underneath me, and I’m about to admit defeat. I can vacation in Utah, and even though I won’t see him in board shorts, warm and tan on the beach, I’ll see him looking pretty damn fine while in his movie element.

But then a heavy hand presses against my left breast.

My eyes fly open, and I can’t help but throw my fists in the air and shout, “I win!”

Sweet mother, I won. I’ve been stressed out from my Hurdles—the in-laws, getting extra hours, setting up meetings with my mom, and booking venues, and that doesn’t even cover half of what I have to do for this wedding.

And it’s all about to be unleashed on him.

Except…he’s laughing.

Laughing so hard I’m nearly knocked off his lap.

I drop my arms and my gaze. Landon lifts his head, laughter breathy and gray eyes wet with amusement.

The hand on my boob is not Landon’s. It’s a zombie mannequin.

“Agh!” I scream, and I topple to the floor. He’s still laughing, and when I get ahold of myself I start swatting at his legs. “Damn you!” I’d take that handsy mannequin and flip him off if it wasn’t missing that finger.

Landon recoils from my flimsy hits, and his hat falls to the floor behind the chair. “That’s what you get, Tumbles.”

“I almost had you, admit it.” I fall back and toss the fake arm to the side. Landon lies down next to me and we both catch our breath. After a few minutes and a few hundred calls on his cell for being so late from the “ten-minute break,” Landon leans up on his arm, his smile lines looking extra adorable.

“You did.”

I shove his face away. Damn him.

Chapter 13

OCTOBER

“I’m going to lose.”

I slam my head down on the table at The Cheesecake Factory. It’s been two weeks since the handsy zombie, and that’s the only action I’ve had since. Landon still squeezes my hand, but he won’t kiss me beyond a peck hello and goodbye and the occasional thank-you. My lady parts are parched.

Theresa leans across the booth and bats at my ponytail.

“Stop moping.”

“It’s been a month and a half.”

“Some people go years, you know.”

“Not you.”

“I said some people.”

“What do you recommend?”

“A long shower.”

“Theresa…”

“I’m ordering you a slice of orgasm cheesecake.”

The dessert menu sticks to my forehead as I sit up. Theresa snatches it from my face and sets it at the edge of the table.

“It’s awful. I can’t even kiss him without wanting to set him free from his jeans and ride him like a bull.”

Ugh, even the visual makes me want to scurry out of here and into Landon’s call center and have him drive me up against a wall. Shit…