Wrapped in You by Kate Perry Page A

behind it.”
    She swallowed, knowing she should focus on the cookie dough instead of Mason’s breath on the back of her neck—or the feel of his body wrapped around her.
    Which was delicious.
    She closed her eyes so she could memorize it. He was taller, and she could feel his belt buckle press into the small of her back. The muscles of his arms enveloped her, and his hands held her protected. It felt warm and caring even as it excited.
    It felt like home.
    She inhaled, his clean scent mixing with the spicy aroma of the cookies. From then on, whenever she smelled cinnamon and cloves she was going to remember Mason and this perfect moment.
    “That’s good,” he murmured.
    She glanced back at him. “Do we need the cutters?”
    His gaze met hers, serious and searching. “We’re missing something.”
    “What?” she asked with a frown. “I thought you put everything in there.”
    “Cookies aren’t special if you don’t make them with love.”
    Love? Her breath caught in her throat, and she started to shake her head. “I—”
    He lowered his mouth and kissed her. It was firm without being demanding, letting her rise up to meet him only if she wanted.
    She did want—so badly that she was tempted to push him on the floor and take him right there. She opened her eyes to tell him that, but her gaze fell on the dress box.
    Shifting her shoulders, she put a little space between them. She needed to keep her head. This had the potential for disaster if she began to hope too much. “What’s next?”
    His mouth quirked with wry humor, and his gaze called her a coward. But he said, “Grab the cookie sheet over there.”
    They worked in silence for the first few minutes as they cut out the ninjabread men and lined them on the tray. Then he said, “Tell me about your sister. Is she older?”
    “Yes.”
    “And she’s always perfect and nice and everyone’s favorite?” he asked.
    She smirked. “You didn’t tell me you’d met her.”
    “My sister is the same. The difference is my parents encouraged us to be our own people.” He got another tray. “I bet Matilda dresses in cotton and simple clothing, kind of like a hippie nun.”
    Frowning, Trudy stopped and stared at him. “How did you know?”
    “Educated guess.”
    She grabbed him by the apron. “Seriously, how did you know?”
    “Because you’re the exact opposite.” He brushed at her hair. “You had to differentiate yourself from her so your parents would realize you weren’t like her. Unfortunately, they still didn’t get it.”
    She crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you have a psychology degree.”
    “I just know what it’s like to be the younger sibling of a forceful sister.” He sobered. “You’re pretty perfect yourself, you know.”
    “You keep telling me that.” She looked down at the cookies.
    “Because you are.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
    She started to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Holding her firm, he made her face him. He made her face her feelings.
    Her body wouldn’t let her turn away, even if he’d let go. Her body begged her for this moment of pleasure. It wanted more.
    She wanted more, too, she admitted to herself, letting her arms wind around him.
    His hands untied the apron and slipped under her sweater.
    They both groaned as his palms slid up her back. He stopped when he reached her shoulder blades. “No underwear again?”
    She shook her head.
    He quickly tugged her apron off and pulled her sweater over her head. Then he inhaled and reverently murmured, “Sweet baby Jesus.”
    Leaning back against the counter, she kept her arms wide and let him look all he wanted.
    “I must have been a good boy this year.” He reached for her pants, undoing them and shimmying them down her legs. He muttered a curse as they caught on her boots, and then bent to help her take them off.
    She looked down at his head, all the feelings mixing together, not unlike the dough they’d made. A little sweet, a little