I’d wanted to fall to my knees right there, back her up against the door and do what I’d done before, only better. But Murphy wouldn’t have it. She yanked me up with surprising strength and bit my ear before telling me to take her quickly. I couldn’t argue when I slipped my hand down to her core and found how ready for me she was.
Afterward, we’d cleaned up and climbed in her bed naked. I was kissing my way down her body when I decided it was time to make good on another promise.
Leaving a tiny love bite on her chest, I said, “Don’t move.”
I jumped up and ran into the kitchen where I’d seen Murphy had stashed the bottle of my family’s maple syrup. She smirked when I walked back into the bedroom carrying the glass jug.
“Did Hunnie give you that idea?”
Stopping in my tracks, I stammered, “Um, pretty sure I don’t rely on Hunnie for bedroom advice.”
Murphy laughed. “It’s just she mentioned telling Gigi once about some honey and Holden’s—”
“Ugh, enough,” I said, holding my free hand in the air. “Like I told you, I may not have an exciting social life, but I don’t need to hear this stuff.”
Murphy gave me the side-eye.
“Look, I know Holden keeps to himself, but I have seen him in my office, so I can’t say anything more because of doctor-patient confidentiality. Either way, Holden’s a good guy, and I don’t want to hear about his . . . well, anything other than his knee or ankle.”
“You mean his dick?” Murphy blurted with a sly grin.
“I meant cock, babe, but I was stumbling over using that word in the presence of a lady. A society lady, no less.” I lay down next to her, running my palm over her smooth skin.
“What’s the syrup for then? I don’t think a society lady would be into getting all sticky and dirty,” she teased, her voice husky.
“You know what? You’re here now, which means you’re not a society lady anymore. So I’m going to forget about any other man’s cock and defile you with this syrup.”
When she simply said, “Please,” I started drizzling a path of Vermont’s finest maple syrup over her torso, her core, and down the inside of her thigh.
Next came the best part. I got to lick it all off her . . . and then she did the same for me.
I couldn’t get the taste of syrup combined with Murphy out of my mind or my mouth when I asked my mom to relax about Murphy coming for dinner. Mom had good intentions, but she could try the patience of a saint. I was smart enough to call her in advance and warn her off her usual heavy-handed antics.
I knew Brenna would be there—even needing to swap a shift at work wouldn’t stop her from missing this dinner. Of course, Branson had filled her in about me seeing Murphy, and then I might have mentioned things were strained. I wouldn’t put it past my sister to give Murphy the third degree, but I knew better than to call her first.
Trying to calm my nerves, I went for classical music on my way to pick up Murphy. As I pulled up in front of her run-down place, I was listening to Vivaldi and thinking about how we needed to stay at my house more often.
Murphy stepped outside, her face glowing as she walked toward the Jeep holding a huge bakery box, and I felt a tug at my heart again. But I couldn’t stay distracted for long because she was opening the back door and sliding the box in the back seat before I could put the Jeep in park.
“I should’ve driven myself,” she said while getting her stuff organized in the back. “You had to come to Colebury just to drive back in the other direction.”
“I was halfway already. Had a quick patient to see in the medical office, over by the Wayside. No big deal.” Once she was settled into the passenger seat, I said, “Smells good. By the way, you didn’t have to bring anything.”
She turned to look at me. “First of all, there are a few things my mom drilled into me. You know, when I was a society lady? A few of them were worthwhile. One is you never go to someone’s home for a meal emptyhanded.”
Not wanting to argue after the mind-blowing sex we’d had last night, I switched gears. “What is it?”
“Oh, the best thing you’ll ever eat. Gigi made them just for me. I called in a favor this morning on my way to the Bean, and since I have her booked for every book club, she owes me.”
“So, spill. What’s in the box?”
“Gigi calls them Vermont-y Cupcakes. Doesn’t seem that original when you first hear it, but they have this apple glaze, almost like a fondant, over a maple frosting on top of a vanilla cupcake with flecks of cinnamon in it, and it’s absolutely decadent. So sweet, yet not. I can’t explain it. They’re delicious, and may even be better than the Arnie Palmer. Wait—no, nothing is better than that one. But I thought this was perfect to bring tonight.”
“Why? You have syrup on your mind?” I asked, unable to resist referring to the night before. When she side-eyed me, I raised a brow. “You didn’t like it?”
Murphy gave me a mock stern look. “Don’t make me break society-lady code and talk dirty when we’re not in bed.”
I loved this easiness in our teasing and joking. It was similar to what we had at Pressman, but now more R-rated. “I guess I’ll just have to get you back in bed and do it all over again.”
“Promises, promises,” Murphy said with a smirk.
I made a mental note to snag a bottle of syrup
