Candy Store

his mouth and put it in the empty shot glass. Loud clapping for the band playing at the reception was bringing Callie crashing back to reality, when he leaned down and said, “Your turn.”
    Callie stood dumbly, blinking at him. This gorgeous man actually thought she was going to lick salt from his neck and then suck a lime from his lips?
    As if sensing her reservations, he said, “You don’t want to waste your drink, now do you?”
    What was she doing? She was a nice girl who owned a candy store, for god’s sake. Not some wanton slut who picked up men at weddings.
    She sneaked a glance down at his ring finger and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t a husband stealing slut.
    And then, she remembered her store and how she was probably going to lose it. Suddenly, it was all too much for her to deal with.
    “Oh, what the hell.”

Chapter Two

    Before she could change her mind, she picked up the slice of lime and shoved it rind-first into Derek’s mouth.
    He chuckled from around the lime and Callie's eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.
    Was he laughing at her? The naïve little thing he was toying with at a wedding?
    Well, she’d show him.
    Blocking out any thoughts of where she was and how unseemly their drinking game was during the middle of a wedding reception, Callie focused on the task at hand.
    To make Derek want her even more than she wanted him.
    Oh yes, she was going to set him on fire and then leave him high and dry after she took what she wanted.
    Coming up on her tippy-toes, she smiled coyly and ran her forefinger over the juice dripping from the lime onto his full lower lip.
    “I didn't mean to be so rough with you,” she said, bringing her finger to her mouth to suck the drop of juice dry.
    His Adam’s apple moved hard in his throat and his grin dropped away completely.
    One point for team Callie.
    She took her finger from her mouth and brought her hands up to the bow tie of his tux. “You’ve got an awful lot of clothes on, don’t you?”
    Derek raised an eyebrow. He couldn't speak around the lime in his mouth, but she could hear his silent challenge loud and clear: “So what are you going to do about it?
    Even with a slice of lime between his lips he looked daunting and powerful and far too sure of himself.
    Callie forced herself to match his silent dare with a cheeky grin. Licking her lips, with great concentration she ran her small hands down the front of his tux, from his broad shoulders, down past his well-formed pecs, to what she assumed was a washboard stomach.
    Even as insecurity reached in to her bravado, she made herself take one of his lightly calloused hands in her own. She ran the tip of her finger along the soft skin and muscle at the curve between his thumb and forefinger and smiled with pleasure at his fast, hard exhale. Her heart beating way too fast, she slowly turned his hand over and continued tracing the skin on his palm.
    More turned on than she’d ever been before—even though she was in public with a man she’d known for five minutes—Callie pushed the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket up to his forearm.
    Barely able to keep her fingers steady, Callie undid the gold cufflink from his dress shirt and let it drop to the floor. Slowly, precisely, she folded his starched sleeve up once, then twice. Every time her fingertips brushed against his, heat surged through her.
    Derek’s pulse beat rapidly under the exposed skin of his wrist. She wanted to cover his heartbeat with the heat of her mouth.
    “Perfect,” she breathed, the spell remaining unbroken as she reached for the salt and sprinkled it on to his tanned wrist and the edge of his palm.
    Raising his wrist to her mouth, Callie paused in a beat of delicious anticipation before dropping her lips to his skin.
    She groaned as she sucked at him, hardly tasting the salt, desperate for a taste of his essence, so potent and male and wonderful. Unwilling to lose contact with him, she licked a grain of salt off of the firm flesh on his palm.
    A low sound came from deep in his throat, like he was a caged lion on the verge of escape.
    Silently promising herself his mouth if she could tear her lips away from his wrist, Callie reached for the shot glass and drank the tequila in one long swallow.
    This time it wasn’t bitter and she didn’t think it was going to kill her. Instead it made her feel warm, even warmer than she already was, and languid and perfect.
    And then, she got back up on her tippy-toes and