by Helena Rac
“Faster, cupcake,” Luke urges. “So fucking good.”
I focus on his words and respond with what he needs. I’m nearly victorious – the sounds his worked-up voice is making and the force with which he rocks back and forth tell me he’s close. I can sense his body tense and I feel his cock swell in my mouth. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. The moment that will set me free. I rocked it– um, him, that is.
“Tessa, that was… God, I can’t move,” Luke manages to say as he collapses against the wall. Before he can gather himself, I pull myself up, place my fingers on his lips again, and kiss him over my fingers. A crooked grin lights up his face, and I can’t help but smile. It’s a moment of weakness, I admit; that’s how ridiculously captivating his smile is, and I almost give in to him, almost let him take away my control. But logic prevails. I remember what I need to do next.
I pull away, leaving him with his pants down, nearly naked. I giggle because the befuddled look on his face is kind of adorable. Then I zero in on the area down below. Big mistake. He’s still half-hard, and calling to me. I scan the rest of his body. It’s calling to me too. The hard lines of his abs, his defined chest, the shirt that screams, “Fucking tear me off!” No – I’m not listening. I’m not looking. But god, I’m feeling so flushed, so aroused.
I avert my gaze and walk hurriedly toward the door that will lead me back to the club. My stride may appear confident, but my knees are shaky, my hands are trembling from the feel of him under my fingers, my mouth’s thirsty from the taste he left behind.
“Tessa?” I hear him in the distance, confusion evident in his voice. As I reach the door, I’m pretty sure I hear him chuckle, though I’m terrified to look back. There is now way I’ll be able to stick to my plan if I turn around.
I pull off my stilettos and sprint down the stairs. As I open the door, the loud music hits me in the face like a boxing glove. When the door shuts behind me, I lean against it, the chill of the metal cooling down my worked-up body. I am a Hot Mess. I had a plan, I executed it, but suddenly I am seriously doubting it. I am no longer sure I’ve got this.
Okay. I fucked his cock with my mouth. Check. He seems to have thoroughly enjoyed it. Check. I left him at a loss for words. Check. Plan accomplished. Score even. That’s exactly what I set out to do.
Then why doesn’t it feel as gratifying as I expected it to? No magic spell’s been broken. Instead, I find myself even more captivated by him, even more addicted. I am overwhelmed by how he felt in my mouth, how he broke apart because of me.
I know almost instantly that my plan is very much flawed. Whatever possessed me to think it would work, to think I could do something so out of my comfort zone and not fuss over it, I have no idea. I’m not sure how to deal with this sudden onset of anxiety – one emotion I haven’t felt in a very long time. I need to get out of here, ASAP.
I take a calming breath and manage to get my shoes back on, then make my way through the crowd to find Clara. Thankfully she is still in her bubble with Marcus, oblivious to anyone or anything around them, it seems. The rest of the wedding party appears to be just as oblivious – our temporary abandonment of the dance floor probably went entirely unnoticed.
I pull at Clara’s arm and yell, “I’m feeling sick. All that wine at dinner, and then the martinis… I think I’m going to head home.” God, I am such a bad liar.
“What?” Clara yells back, clearly unable to comprehend, even though that was the loudest I can be.
“Feeling. Sick.” I say it slowly, then make a gagging gesture. “Home. Going home.”
“You gonna be okay on your own?” she yells louder than necessary. Clearly she’s had a bit too much to drink.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Though I seriously start to doubt that little affirmation.
“Where’s Luke?” she asks expectantly.
“Luke?” I question, like I haven’t seen him in a while. “No clue.” I shrug innocently. The thought of him recovering on the rooftop after what must have been one of the most amazing mouth fucks ever makes me want to smile, though.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say while giving her a quick hug. Then I scurry through the crowd, hoping not to run into Luke on my way out. I can’t face him right now. I make it outside faster than humanly possible, and after hailing a cab, I feel safe in the confines of the four doors.
What the fuck happened up there, Conte? I thought I had it all figured out, a well-thought-out plan. It’s not that my plan didn’t work; I’m sure I have Luke hooked. It’s just that it also backfired. As I relive the evening, from teasing him at dinner, to flirting on the dance floor, to the moments on the roof, I realize I am nowhere near where I thought I would be. Instead of the freedom I anticipated, I’m even more addicted. Running away from Luke did not bring me the relief I needed. Instead, it brought on more obsessive thinking, and panic at the realization that my girlish infatuation is more real than I was willing to admit. The little spark that ignited that first time I ran into him, the spark that caught fire at the movie theater, only became blazing hot tonight. I’m walking in uncharted territory. One wrong move and I am going to fall deeper than I ever anticipated, and way deeper than I want.
I’m determined to stick to the promise I made to myself after the fiasco with Jason. After he left me without much advance notice, I promised myself I’d live for me and not get distracted by the opposite sex ever again. But Luke makes me wonder if that promise is impossible to uphold. After all, I’m a woman with needs. And right now my needs appear to be selfish. They want Luke, and only Luke.
God, Tessa, this – whatever this is – was definitely not part of the plan! I have to face it: my Evil, Kick-Ass Plan is seriously and completely fucked. I need another plan, and fast. But after running through a handful of possible scenarios, I realize my options are pretty slim. I can’t think of anything else but sticking with what I initially contemplated.
I’ll just have to try to avoid Luke, even though I have a sneaky suspicion avoiding him till the wedding will be all but impossible. But I’ll deal with that as it comes. And whatever these feelings are that are creeping over me will have to be buried deep down. The last thing I need is to fall head over heels for this guy. Pulling away is critical. Keeping the wounds closed is a must. That I know how to do. Surely I can manage it again.
Chapter 6
My sleep was … well, it was rather interesting: interrupted with thoughts of Luke, with the remnants of the sweet taste of him in my mouth, my realization haunting me in my dreams. I’m so confused about what my feelings may be telling me.
I’m not a fan of early mornings, but I love running. It helps me clear my mind and lets my thought-filled brain relax and absorb all that’s happening around me. I don’t normally think of the to-do lists; I just listen to my favorite songs and focus on the run. I stick to a routine most weekday mornings, whenever I’m not the one working the early shift. I’m up at seven, run my typical half-hour route, shower, have a bowl of Cheerios, and make my way to Lovely Cakes for nine. Just like a lot of things in my life, it’s predictable. Orderly. Simple. I’m hoping this morning’s run will help me sort out the mess in my head. It’s mildly successful.
Thankfully there’s always baking. I’m hoping that will hold my focus for the day and make my meandering thoughts break free for a bit. I have a ton of work ahead of me, especially with Clara’s wedding a week away, amongst all sorts of other orders we have to finish. Keeping busy won’t be a problem.
The sweet fragrance of Lovely Cakes is deliciously overpowering. It is my sanctuary, my little slice of heaven. Baking is my outlet and my passion; it’s the one place where everything bottled up normally releases itself in beautiful creations. I love to plan out my masterpieces and then make them come to life with the skill of my hands. As a child, I was inspired by all the sweet things my nonna used to make. I baked my first cake when I was only eight and learned the decorating basics by the time I was ten just b
y observing and helping her.
The bakery is elegant yet cozy. The big bay windows on each side of the entrance bring warmth and brightness inside. They hold displays of our custom-designed cakes and showcase the variety that Lovely Cakes is locally famous for. Inside, white wainscoting and chocolate-brown walls make a warm, modern combination. There are colorful pictures of sweet indulgences and a board covered in the thank-you cards and pictures that we receive on a weekly basis. Along each side, there are a couple of small white tables with chairs where customers can sit down and indulge. Jars of loose leaf teas line a side counter, where customers can choose their favorite flavor or blend to go along with their dessert of choice. The glass counter near the back of the store displays cupcakes, cookies, and cake-pops, and behind the counter there’s a small window that allows us to see customers coming into the store.
“Hey, sleepy head.” Rose, my assistant, greets me with a warm smile as she catches me yawning as I get in the door. Thank goodness she’s got my tea ready like always. “So how was last night?” she asks excitedly, fully expecting to hear the details of my plan’s success. If only…
“Ugh,” is all I say.
“That good, huh?”
Rose’s sarcasm is not quite what I need today. I roll my eyes. “Don’t ask.”
“Come on, just tell me. You know it’ll make you feel better.”
“You’re right. It always does,” I admit.
As I start working on one of the orders for the week, I give her a detailed synopsis of the evening, from the teasing at dinner, to the dance floor, to the wild time on the rooftop, to my sudden rush to get out of there, to figuring out that I’m basically in a less-than-stellar predicament. Rose listens attentively, nods at the right times, and digs deeper whenever I manage to neglect to mention a few minor details.
“I mean, even a person with no commitment issues would probably think twice before getting involved with someone who will be back across the Atlantic in a few days. And you and I both know that long-distance relationships rarely work out.” I give her a meaningful look. Of course I’m referring to Jason and his more than temporary move overseas. “Add commitment issues to the mix, and it’s a concoction more complicated than some of the cakes we’ve made.” I can’t help but laugh nervously.
“Seems to me you’re in deeper than you think,” Rose says candidly when I’m finished my rambling.
“I thought you were supposed to help. That’s not really helping.”
She just shrugs. “Have you thought about talking to him, getting some answers?”
“I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, every time I see him, it’s as if the rational me disappears, and this new Tessa, one I’ve never met before, comes out from under her shell. How I even managed to follow through with the plan last night is beyond me. I was nearly ready to tear his clothes off.”
“Well, you did do what you planned – sort of. But if I can just reiterate what I said when you came up with this plan of yours, did you seriously think it would work in the first place?” She shakes her head. “And you’re crazy to think you can just avoid him for the rest of the week. You may have just upped the ante.”
She’s right. There’s no hope in pretending Luke doesn’t exist. The reality is that he’s here for the next few days and I will just have to manage.
“I’ll just … I’ll figure it out. But there’s no way I’m letting him get into my panties again.” I’m still convinced, although perhaps delusional, that I can say no to Luke.
“Sure, sure. Let me know how that works out for you.”
“Ugh! Forget it. Anyways, enough about me. How was your night?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Oh, you know, as fun as always.” She says that with the hint of sarcasm that I by now fully expect from Rose.
“Hey, come on. I just spent the last twenty minutes pouring my heart out, and this is all I get?”
She smiles, then dives into the details. Unlike me, who’s avoided the opposite sex over the last few years, Rose has tried really hard to find love. “True love,” as she likes to refer to it. Perhaps sometimes she tries too hard. Other times, I think she may be too blind to see what’s dead center in front of her. Last night was one more of her speed-dating disasters.
Rose, a good friend of my cousin Liz, stopped by the bakery just a couple of months after I opened Lovely Cakes and asked if I needed help. I’m not sure what it was about her, but we clicked immediately. I felt comfortable offering her a job, possibly because she was Liz’s friend, even though I didn’t know her very well. Of course I made sure she was able to adequately answer a list of questions I had thoughtfully put together for purposes of interviewing potential candidates. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and we worked so well together that I’ve never looked back. She is an amazing assistant and a great friend. Over the last year, however, she’s become more involved with an event planning business that she’s been running on the side. It seems that working at the bakery has been a great way to meet new clientele, so her business has kind of flourished. Coincidentally, it goes hand in hand with generating more business for Lovely Cakes as well, so it’s a win-win. As a matter of fact, she’s the wedding planner for Clara and Marcus’s wedding. She’s so talented, I have no doubt it will be spectacular.
Rose’s squeal startles me. At least I think it’s Rose. Her face is hidden by a giant bouquet of gerbera daisies. They’re so bright and colorful.
“Um, Rose, what’s this?”
Her big, honey-colored eyes peer from behind the bouquet. “They’re for you!”
“Me?” I’m confused. Who would be sending me flowers?
I take the bouquet from her and place it on the table right next to the cake I’m working on, and then notice a small envelope that says, “Open me.”
Our clients normally send thank-you cards, not giant bouquets. Rose is hovering over me, practically jumping like a four-year-old waiting to open her Christmas gift.
“Come on, open it!”
I take a moment to pull the card from the bouquet and dismiss the fact that my fingers are trembling slightly as I pry open the envelope. I have no idea why. I mean, it’s just a card and a beautiful bouquet. It’s not like I’ve never received one before.
Actually, now that I think about it, not really. Not during my time at Lovely Cakes, at least. So as I open the envelope, it feels as though I’m at the climax of a mystery novel.
You’re unpredictable, cupcake.
Will you please go out with me?
LC
“So?” Rose snatches the card from between my fingers and reads it out loud, then looks up at me, confused. “Oh my god, is this from Luke?”
I nod, and against my better judgment, I smile. But I convince myself that the smile is not because I’m flattered or intrigued; rather, it’s a result of the confirmation that my plan worked. Luke is hooked. Now he can enjoy the consequences.
“I told you. His kind is persistent.” I’m not sure what “kind” she’s referring to, but I do know she’s got categories for the opposite sex. Several, actually.
“I am not going out with that asshole.” I sound determined, but my palms are sweating for some weird reason. I wipe them on my apron and dismiss the bubbly feeling in my stomach. Luke wants me to go out with him. After last night.
I take the card back from her and, in what is probably an over-the-top reaction, tear it into tiny little pieces for effect. They flutter like confetti to the floor. I grab the bouquet and walk toward the garbage can.
“Nooo!” Rose’s shriek stuns me momentarily. I look over at her, my eyes shooting daggers. “They’re so beautiful,” she cries out, as if she hasn’t just heard me call Luke an asshole. “You can’t throw them out. They’re living things!” She’s looking at me with her puppy-dog eyes again.
“Fine,” I sigh, and she relaxes. I guess they are kind of pretty. I don’t actually have the heart to throw them out. Because they are living things.
They are not to blame for Luke’s assholery. They’ll look lovely among the display cakes. Until they die. Which they will. Like all lovely things.
Did you get the flowers?
It’s a text from … Luke? How in the hell did he get my number? I can think of only two people who could be responsible for this: Clara and Marcus. Come to think of it, one of them must have also told him where I work – how else would he have known where to send the flowers in the first place? Luke appears to be on a mission. Good luck with that, Mr. Callaghan.
I may have, I reply.
Did you like them?
Hmm. I liked the flowers. I’m not sure I liked the offer that came with them. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself the entire afternoon, since said flowers arrived.
They were fine , I text back. There. That sounds like, “I’m not interested. Now let me get back to work.”
A couple of minutes pass before there’s another text. Ugh! Did he not get the message?
Did you get the card?
Of course. The card.
What card? I’m being purposefully obtuse.
The date card, he replies, and I can almost sense the frustration that’s attached to the text.
There may have been a card, though it’s suffered an untimely death. But he doesn’t need to know that.
Yes, I got the card
And?
And what? I text back.
Will you? Go on a date with me?
I’m surprised you’d even ask. How very nice of you. But no.
No?
No.
I just about think he’s done when another text comes in.
Anything I can do to convince you?
No.
Luke appears to get the message, because I receive no more texts from him. Though, I have to admit, the exchange was kind of fun.
“I’m going to get some lunch,” I tell Rose. “Did you want me to grab something for you too?”