Straightening to his full height, he chewed slowly, his gaze steady on hers, while she stared with an expression that probably resembled a starstruck adolescent who'd just found herself standing next to Ben Affleck. Good grief, Matt Davidson possessed the sexiest mouth she'd ever seen. And seeing it wrapped around her chocolate was almost more than she could stand. Before she could recover, however, he reached out, lightly clasped her wrist between his strong fingers, then brought her hand to his mouth. Staring into her eyes, he gently drew the other half of the chocolate into his mouth. His tongue brushed over her fingertips and desire hit her so hard she felt woozy.
She watched him chew, half her attention fixed on his beautiful mouth, the other half on the pulse-quickening feel of his skin touching hers where he still held her wrist.
After he swallowed, he said softly, "Delicious."
Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded.
"That sample makes me want more."
Yeah, me, too. She drew in a much-needed breath, slipped her hand from his, and gave herself a mental shake. Flipping the box closed, she resettled the candy in her shopping bag, then placed the bag on the front seat. "I will refrain from saying I told you so. Unfortunately for you, that's all you get."
He smiled. "Until I win."
She smiled back and held out her hand. "Keys?"
He closed the car door, clicked the remote to lock the doors, then dropped the keys in her palm. She tucked the key ring in her pocket, then resolutely slipped her glove back on. After offering him a jaunty salute, she jogged the short distance to the end of the parking lot.
Matt took a few seconds to pull in a breath and get his raging libido under control. His palm still tingled from the warmth of her skin. His head still swam from the clean laundry scent that wafted from her skin, tempting him to lean closer and breathe her in. His groin still felt tight where his damn jeans were strangling him, and his-
Splat!
He looked down. And his chest was covered in snow.
Another snowball smacked him on the shoulder, knocking him from his stupor. Looking up, he saw her, half-hidden behind a tree about twenty feet away. "Hey!" he protested, starting forward. "We haven't gone over the rules."
"The one with the most snow on him loses," she called. Another missile caught him in the thigh, and he made a mad dash for a slender tree that stood about fifteen feet away from hers. She hit him in the ass with another snowball before he ducked for cover.
"No fair," he yelled, furiously packing a snowball, and cursing that he wasn't wearing gloves. "I didn't know we were starting."
"European rules. They're rough. Get used to it." A snowball hit his tree trunk just above his head, spraying snow on his face as the missile broke apart. Jeez, the woman had skill. She had aim like a major league pitcher. The Mets could use her.
He built up his arsenal to twelve hastily made snowballs, managing to avoid most of the barrage that she launched at him.
"What do you have, sixteen arms?" he asked. "How are you making those snowballs so fast?"
"Ha! Like I'm going to tell you. But the fact that I'm wearing gloves helps."
Another ball of white whizzed by his ear. "How about giving me one of those gloves?"
"Forget it. Not when there's chocolate on the line."
"What happened to fair play and all that?"
"All's fair in snowball war."
Peeking around the tree trunk, he took aim and threw, catching her on the arm. "Take that."
A snowball exploded just below his chin. He glared at her, and she favored him with an evil chuckle.
"You're going down, Davidson."
"Not without a fight."
Over the next ten minutes, he managed to get in a few good shots, but with his fingers growing numb, and her freakin' dead-eye aim, he had to face the fact that he only had one chance of winning. Gathering up his last few snowballs, he crouched low and ran like hell toward her.
"I'm storming the citadel," he yelled, furiously throwing his remaining weapons.
"You're toast," she yelled back, pelting him at close range with a double whammy that caught him in the shoulder and the chin.
With a low growl, he caught her around the waist as she bent to grab another handful of snow. She squealed, and tried to break away, throwing him off balance. Unable to catch himself, he fell forward, landing half on top of her just as she fell, face down, in the snow.
He immediately pushed himself up onto his hands. "Jeez, Jilly, are you okay?"
She rolled over and glared at him through snowflake flecked lashes. "Yeah, I'm swell."
"Did I hurt you?"
She wiped her wet face with the back of her glove, but as her gloves were wet, it didn't help much. "Only my pride."
He exhaled his relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tackle you-you threw me off balance." His gaze wandered over her and he grinned. "Looks like I win."
Her eyes goggled. "You? You, who couldn't hit the side of an elephant with a handful of rice? You, who couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat?"
"Ah, but you said that the one with the most snow on him loses, and you-" his gaze traveled pointedly down her snow-covered front "-clearly have more snow on you."
"Only because you flung me face down in the snow."
"I didn't fling. I tripped. And only because you squealed and flailed your arms around like a girl."
"That wasn't a squeal, it was a shout of surprise at being manhandled by the enemy. And I wasn't flailing, I was trying to regain my balance after you knocked me off my feet, you big klutz. And here's a news flash for you-I am a girl."
He looked down into those big, golden-brown eyes, and it suddenly struck him more forcefully than ever that she was very much a girl. And that he was very much a guy. And that all his guy stuff was pressed against the length of all her girl stuff.
Desire sucker-punched him in the gut. She must have read it in his eyes because she suddenly went completely still beneath him, and awareness and heat flared in her gaze.
He meant to shift off her, surely he did, but his muscles refused to move. Still, certainly he would have pushed himself off her-but then her gaze dropped to his mouth.
That look touched him like a caress, and he bit back a groan of want. Before all the reasons he shouldn't raised their voices, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. Certainly he meant it only to be a light kiss, experimental, but after a few seconds her lips-those beautiful, soft, tempting lips-parted, and her tongue brushed against his. And all bets were off.
He moaned-or was that her?-and slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue tasting all the warm, secret lusciousness of her. Every part of him that had been icy cold only seconds earlier, heated like he'd stepped into a brushfire. Clearly she'd sampled her candy earlier because she tasted like chocolate-sweet and delicious. And everything about her, from the feel of her pressed against him to her luscious taste, made him want to devour her.
The frosty, wet wool of her gloved fingers brushed his nape, shooting a shiver down his spine, and rousing his drugged senses enough to remind him of where he was. And whom he was with.
Slowly lifting his head, he looked down into eyes darkened with arousal, yet flickering with the same wary expression he knew was reflected in his own eyes.
He needed to say something-preferably something along the lines of boy, that was a big mistake we'd better not let happen again-but damned if he could find his voice. All he could do was stare at her and fight the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. And again.
Finally she cleared her throat. "I have a confession to make."
"What's that?" he said in a croaky, husky voice he didn't recognize.
"I'd… wondered."
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Well, in that case, I have a confession to make as well. I'd wondered, too."