“I’m serious, Brick. I don’t like them. And I’m not going to eat one just to placate your—”

“I know you don’t like mangoes.” A faint curl of humor danced on his lips.

“You know?” How? How did he know this?

“I’ve been feeding you this whole time, remember?” With his hot buttered voice, it sounded dirty, illicit.

“I remember.” I sounded far too breathless.

He clearly noticed; that small private smile moved to his eyes. “You never eat the mango slices when I put them in any meals.”

Understanding hit me, and I recalled that while I’d had breakfast fruit trays with mangoes, they’d stopped being included after the second time. Wide eyed, I silently gaped back at him.

Lucian’s long clever fingers delicately picked up a cream puff. “Which is why I made some of these with vanilla-ginger cream.”

Had I been gaping before? My mouth fell wide open. Behind me, I heard Dougal sigh, as if impressed. But I could only stare at Lucian, who looked smug but oddly shy as well.

“You did that for me?” I croaked.

His broad shoulder moved under his jacket. “That, and the combination of vanilla, ginger, and mango mirrored what Delilah and Saint had wanted in their original cake.”

I could fall for this man. Fall hard. Maybe I already had, because my heart was too big, beating too fast. He gave me another small, barely there smile, his pale eyes gleaming with something soft and intent.

“Come now, honeybee,” he murmured. “Try my cream.”

I sputtered out a shocked laugh, and my face flamed, but as he’d commanded, I opened my mouth.

Lucian’s nostrils flared. His hand shook a little as he lifted the cream puff and placed it on the edge of my lips. I opened my mouth wider, my tongue flicking out for that first sweet taste.

Rich, almost nutty caramel, the gentle crunch of pastry, a burst of smooth light cream with a hint of vanilla and ginger spice. Slowly, I chewed, my eyes locked with his, my body tight, and my mouth in heaven. He stayed with me, feeding me another bite, cream getting on his thumb.

My tongue slipped over the blunt end, and he grunted. Hard.

“Jesus,” Dougal said, breaking the spell. “Do that in your room.”

Caught out, we both turned his way. The big bald man with tiny round maroon glasses and a perfectly etched goatee was blushing so hard it turned his brown skin a deep rosewood. “Some of us are here without dates. No need to be taunting us with that prelude to kinky sex.” Dougal fanned himself. “Gods below, I need a drink.”

We watched him walk off, and my face flamed. I’d been two seconds away from sucking on Lucian’s thumb and begging for more. Lucian, on the other hand, was unfazed and simply licked his damp thumb, giving me a wicked look.

“Jerk,” I muttered, making him chuckle, a delicious rumbling sound that was pure male satisfaction.

Flirty Lucian was dangerous. And gorgeous. At some point between making dessert and the wedding, he’d changed into a finely cut smoke-gray suit with a pure-white shirt and a silver-blue tie. The combination of colors turned his skin bronze and his eyes like old sea glass.

He paused and lifted his dark, thick brows in inquiry. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because I want you.

I dragged a fingertip through an errant drop of cream on the plate and licked it up, enjoying the way he watched with intense interest. “Can’t be helped, Brick. You really wear that suit.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was embarrassed by the praise. His voice came out in a rough rumble. “You seemed surprised.”

I was not surprised in the least. The man could make a purple velour tracksuit look like a good idea. “I’m used to you in jeans. I wasn’t sure you owned a suit.”

He chuckled, as though quietly amused. “Honey, I have dozens of them. All handmade.” He sat back, showing off the way his perfectly cut suit lined his long lean body. “I’m a hockey player, after all.”

“I honestly don’t see the connection.”

“Hockey players wear suits or dress clothes on game day and during travel. As a sign of respect, team unity.” He waved an idle hand. “To show we are, at least on the surface, gentlemen.”

That was . . . insanely sexy. “And here I thought you were all about bloody battles on the ice.”

Again came that dangerous, gorgeous smile. “We’re that too. Though less so in recent years. We’ve been tempered.”

“A veneer at best, huh?” God, that was sexy too. Though I supposed it shouldn’t have been.

“With you, honeybee, I will always be a gentleman.” He laughed softly, like he was imparting a secret. “Unless you don’t want me to be.”

I should have rolled my eyes at that, because he was clearly baiting me with that cheesy line, but he was also clearly relaxed and enjoying himself so much I couldn’t help but smile.