by Laura Brown
I had time. I wasn’t leaving yet. Surely, we’d get sick of each other before it became an issue. If we didn’t, at least he knew what he was getting into.
I collected the box I had set aside and headed to the front. Jake was already settled in behind the counter, chatting with Hannah.
“And our very own Avery saved the day.”
I set my box down in front of them. “I did?”
“I might like your rolls better than Patrick’s.”
My cheeks warmed. “They really aren’t anything special.”
“Rolls?” Jake asked, eyes darting back and forth between us. He glanced behind him, to where most of the breads were kept, but by this time of day the selection had dwindled.
“Shame you missed them,” Hannah said.
I nudged the box closer to Jake. “No, he didn’t.”
Jake’s hand went to the box, his eyes never leaving my face. “What did you do?”
“You’re always stealing something I’ve made. I picked a few out for you.”
He opened the box, an expression crossing his face of such pleasure that my stomach clenched.
“Such a sucker for something sweet,” Hannah said.
“Shut it,” Jake said to Hannah, still surveying the items I had packed for him.
“You know, they say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
I needed the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Jake closed the lid and stared at his sister. “What are you still doing here?”
“Harassing you?”
“Mission accomplished. You can leave now.”
Hannah moved off, shaking her head and laughing. She said something, but I couldn’t make it out.
Jake, however, appeared to have heard. “You done?”
Hannah turned, face the image of pure innocence. “Who, me? Never.”
Then she pushed open the swinging doors and left us alone.
“Sorry about that,” Jake said.
I shrugged. Embarrassment or not, it was clear his family cared for each other. They were a tight-knit group, which only served as a warning that I played with fire by seeing him. The end would not be pretty.
“Hey, where’d you go? I lost you there.”
I forced a smile on my face. “I’m fine. Long day. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Jake’s gaze heated. “Good thing you’re used to little sleep.”
I rested my elbows on the high counter. “I thought you were working at getting me to sleep more.”
He copied my position, our faces inches apart. “Maybe two nights ago but not last night.”
Before I could respond, his lips were on mine. I fell into him, into the passion and promise present behind those talented lips. My body woke up, begging for more, for him to recreate those orgasms that I could quickly become addicted to.
Jake pulled back, and it took me far too long to realize the door had chimed and we had customers. I wanted to hide my face. Here I was, kissing Jake in the middle of the bakery. I didn’t move. Couldn’t, my feet weren’t quite working. Instead, I stood there like an idiot as he helped the customers.
“You okay?” he asked as the door closed behind them.
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why? My hands were tame.”
“Jake.” I groaned.
He held up his hands. “Fine. Can I stop by later?”
I should have told him no, taken some time to myself to wrap my head around our relationship and everything that had happened. “Yes.”
Truth was, he made my nights. He’d been a part of them since I moved and regardless of common sense, I wanted that to continue.
For now.
*
“So?” Mom asked.
I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled off my sneakers, my stinging sole doing a sob/cheer at the process. My hearing aid squealed at the motion, causing me to shift the phone to break the feedback loop. “So what?”
“So, what’s new with that boy of yours? Your lips were sealed tight when you visited,” Mom said.
I collapsed on the couch, my back groaning. “There wasn’t much to say.”
“Until he started texting you.”
I sat up straight. “What are you talking about?”
“I know my daughter and I’ve never seen you look at your phone quite that way.”
Not even with Erik? I shook my head. Erik and I rarely texted. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. “Mom. It was loud. My phone was the only thing I could communicate with.”
“It’s been loud plenty of times and you’ve been on your phone, never looking at it like it was so special.”
“Mom.” I groaned.
“When are you going to decide you’re not moving back home?”
I rubbed my temples. “Why are you being so dramatic about this?”
“You’ll visit, right?” There was a catch in her voice, one that troubled me.
“I’m dating someone, not giving up on Erik’s bakery. Why are you acting like it’s the end of the world?”
“Because I’ve never seen you that happy, not even with Erik and the bakery plans. You are happy there, Avery; happier than you’ve been here.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?”
I sighed and stretched my aching neck. “What’s really going on?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was too curt, too quick.
“Mother.”
“Don’t ‘mother’ me. I’m not some evil villain.”
“Depends on the day.”
“Life is short. You need to take what you can get, when you can get it.”
An unsettled sensation took residence in my gut. This didn’t sound like my usual overbearing mother.
“Now you’re worrying me.”
“Nothing to worry about. I need you to look out for your best interests for a change.”
“For a change? What do you think I’m doing here? I’m learning so I can open my own business.”
“Is that what you really want, or what Erik wanted?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“I can’t see you doing this on your own.” Mom’s voice was soft, but I caught what she said, the familiarity of her voice trumping volume.
“Why?” I almost asked if it was because of my ears, but they never treated my hearing loss as a problem. They ignored it at times, forgetting I needed extra consideration. But never once was it presumed my ears would hold me back.
“Because you’re a team player. When Erik lived, you had that. I see how happy you are, and I wonder if you’ve found your place.”
I needed a drink. “I’ve been here a month and you’ve got my entire future laid out for me, don’t you?”
“If you send me a picture of your hairdresser, I can imagine my grandchildren.”
“Mom!” She wasn’t here and my cheeks flamed hot.
“All I’m saying is, sometimes plans change and it’s for the best.”
“I just got here. Nothing’s changed.” Yet the words felt wrong on my tongue. A lot had changed in the past few weeks. I’d changed. I didn’t understand how change could happen so quickly, but it had. The question remained in the future. I didn’t have a crystal ball. I didn’t know where things would go. The guilt crawled in. Not only had I started to move on from Erik, but Mom thought I’d abandon his dream. I had to stick to my graveside promise.
“Be happy. That’s all I want.”
The hair rose on the back of my neck. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Positive.” The shake was back in her voice.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“If I have something to tell you, I will.”
Did her behavior have to do with my plans, or something else?
“That sounds ominous.”
“And you can tell me when there’s something to tell with your guy.”
I stared out the window, at the buildings that had beco
me my new view. Scenery that separated me from my parents while bringing me closer to Jake. I wasn’t sure there would ever be something to tell. It hadn’t been the plan. Yet when I thought of my future, I had no clue which direction it led. “Now you sound like the overbearing mother that you are.”
“It’s what I do best.”
“I can visit. I’m only a few hours away. You let me know.”
“You’ve got your new life to focus on.” She sighed, the sound a wind current against the phone. “I’ll let you know.”
“You better.”
We disconnected, but I couldn’t fight the unsettled feeling in my gut. My feet still throbbed, my back thought moving was a joke, and sitting still wasn’t happening. I got up and headed to my kitchen, wishing it was bigger and grander so I could do some real baking while at home.
Not in the cards. I checked the cabinets to see what my options were. Apple pie sounded good, sweet with some nutritional value. But the single apple I had in the fridge wasn’t going to cut it. Chocolate truffle pie would have to do, because I always had chocolate on hand.
Plus: chocolate.
I set to work, music of my own choice playing. No more guessing games as to what the actual song was when the playlist was of a known variety. I let the day fade away as I focused on steps I knew by heart, letting my hands do what they did best: create.
I went overboard with the top, crumbling the cookie topping as if I was being graded on the precision, before putting it into the oven. Time was precious, and when I had enough I let myself be fancy, even if the end result would be for me alone.
Timer set, I leaned against the counter, licking the last of the truffle filling, when the doorbell rang. I clicked on the oven light and headed for the door.
Jake stood on the other side, wide grin showing off straight teeth and the barest hint of what could be considered a swoon-worthy dimple. “You’re baking. I can smell it in the hall.”
“It’s what I do.” I smiled up at him, happy to have him here, in my space. Then, because I wanted to, because I could, I kissed him, giving myself a moment to fall into the butterflies his touch created.
His grin felt even wider when we parted. “I like it. Growing up, my home always smelled of something good. I think that was the biggest culture shock when I moved out on my own. No more good smells.”
I led him into my kitchen. “A home isn’t a home unless it smells of something sweet. At least, that’s my motto.”
Mom wasn’t a baker like me, but she did do a lot of baking and cooking when I was growing up. Many days I would come home from school to find some fresh sweet waiting for me. Then, when she started working again, I baked for her. Not exactly normal ten-year-old behavior, but I discovered I loved baking, loved taking her recipes and making them my own. And I somehow never stopped.
Jake headed straight to my oven. He didn’t open the door, just squatted and looked in the window.
“Pie?” He turned to me.
Or at least, that was what I guessed from his lip movement.
I clicked off the music. “Pie. Chocolate truffle.”
He leaned over the bowl I had been licking clean before he arrived. I handed him the spatula and locked my knees when his tongue darted out to lick the chocolate. His eyes closed and that hint of a dimple came back, nearly melting me from a solid to liquid state. “You have to show this to Mom.”
I scrambled away from the lust and eyed my oven, thinking of all that yummy chocolate. “Well, not eating it all would be best for my waist.”
He pointed the spatula at me, then dipped it back into the bowl for more. “I mean it. We do a lot of Thanksgiving pie sales. This should be added to the list.”
A flutter picked up at his words, at his support. Erik always aimed to take my recipes to the next level and satisfaction wouldn’t come until he succeeded.
“I make a damn good apple pie as well, but, sadly, I rarely buy enough apples unless I’m prepared to bake something.”
His eyes, I couldn’t get enough of them. Not when they looked at me like that, with heat and promise and something more, something deeper and warmer and, God help me, scarier.
“Then I need to buy you some apples.”
I laughed. “So I don’t bake enough on the job?”
Jake swallowed more filling. I followed the jump of his Adam’s apple.
“I’ve lived my whole life around bakers. You have to be bound and gagged to be kept out of the kitchen.”
My body heated at his words, which wasn’t like me, not at all. Unfortunately, he caught my shift in behavior. How? I had no clue, but he put the bowl into the sink and stepped into me.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“No.” I took a step back, the counter digging into my ass.
“Wrong Number would.”
I shot a hand out in an attempt to keep him a few inches away. “I’m not Wrong Number.”
His hand grazed my cheek. “Yeah, you are.”
“No, she was a fantasy.”
“Then prove it.” His mouth met mine, hotter than the oven and sweeter than the truffle, killing all rational thought.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands going to his hair, holding him closer as I opened for him. His hands dug into my hips, drawing us together in delicious friction. I clawed at him, desperate to get closer, all but rubbing the aching tips of my breasts against his hard chest.
“Avery,” Jake whispered, breaking our kiss to lick a path down my neck and to my exposed collarbone. “Your baking is out of this world, but nothing compares to your skin.”
He punctuated that by gently nibbling at my neck.
I gasped, more turned on than I thought possible. If I were the pie, I’d be at serious risk of burning and wouldn’t give a damn. I forced myself to focus on the timer.
“You’ve got a half hour before the pie burns.”
He lifted his head, heat and humor dancing in his dark eyes. This time, they reminded me of ground coffee with a splash of cream on a dreary day. “Then I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
He took my hand, leading me into the bedroom.
I pulled back. “I won’t hear the timer beep from here.”
He removed my hair from its ponytail, somehow managing to do so without hitting a snarl. The strands fell down my neck and the sides of my face.
“I will. I won’t let the pie burn. I want to taste it too much. But first, I need to taste you.”
He ran his hands through my hair, before backing me up to my bed. Then our mouths clung again as our bodies aligned, hands roaming as we fought to get closer. I felt lost and out of control, in a weird way loving the sensation. Rational thought didn’t exist, not when Jake moved a hand to my breast, or popped the button on my jeans. I could grow addicted to him and the way he took me out of my body, before stringing me back together.
He removed my top, the cool air doing nothing to help my overheated body. Then his lips were on my skin, my bra soon discarded as he sucked me into his mouth.
No wonder this man liked food so much, his mouth was heaven and deserved only the best. I whimpered at his touch, needing release, needing an escape for the pressure building, and building, and building.
He let my breast pop free. “Can I taste you?”
I glanced down at my wet breast, then back at him.
His fingers dipped inside my open jeans, around the edges of my panties. “That’s not what I meant.”
I sucked in a breath when his fingers slipped into my pants, lightly brushing where I needed him most, making my body tighten further. “I suspect the chocolate tastes better.”
His face lit with challenge. “You’d suspect wrong. May I?”
That mouth, paradise to kiss. I wondered if the streak could continue. I nodded, then lifted up so he could remove my jeans and panties, leaving me naked on my bed, while he was fully clothed.
“Hey, why am I the only one naked?”
He gave a nonchalant shrug, then got
off the bed to strip. I bit my lip as I watched, taking in the muscles of his arms and shoulders, as well as tight abs. He paused for a second with his pants, a reminder he hadn’t shared himself like this with others. All it took was my tongue against my lip and those pants hit the floor. His burnt leg wasn’t as defined as the other, but it didn’t make a difference. He remained my favorite male specimen to ogle.
He climbed back on the bed, kissing a path up one leg with slow movements. He skipped over the part of me throbbing the most, to kiss back down the other leg, before settling between them and taking a soft bite of my hip.
Then he lowered, pressing one kiss just above where I wanted, before licking up the seam.
My head fell back on the pillow. Goodness, his mouth needed a warning. May induce pleasure. Proceed with caution. He licked and nibbled until it felt like he was eating one of my cupcakes instead of me. I knew I’d never be able to watch the man eat again without remembering the feel of his tongue searching out all my secrets.
“Jake.” I moaned.
He gripped my hips, angling me closer, and the shift in angle caused me to burst right out of myself. The orgasm shook me so hard my back ached and I didn’t give a damn, not when pleasure ran rampant.
I calmed down to find Jake beside me, one hand resting on my stomach. “That’s two. I owe you one more.”
I laughed and tugged him to me, kissing him, finding it oddly erotic to have the taste of me on his lips. “One more and then you’ll have to stop counting.”
“So it would seem.”
And we were back to kissing, bodies shifting together as though we’d done this a million times before. I’d never felt the comfort with the thrill like this and didn’t know quite what to make about it.
That was until Jake gripped my wrists and held them over my head. “Jake?”
“I’m not much for the gagging part, but we could try the bound.”
I tried to break free, but he had a good grip on my wrists. “I’m not sure I like this.”
“The pulse at the base of your neck says otherwise.”
I bit my lip. Yes, I was partly alarmed. But I couldn’t deny there were equal parts thrill.
“Do you trust me?”
I took in his face, the way his hair had started to fall forward and brush against an eyebrow, the slight hint of stubble breaking free. I had no idea what it was about him, but I did know the answer. “Yes.”