by Amy Andrews
“He bought croissants,” she said, feeling stupid for saying something so idiotic, but…he’d come to her bakery. She smiled, almost bursting with happiness, seeing it mirrored in the tawny depths of his eyes.
“Well, you won’t be able to keep him away now.”
Val smiled and hugged him tight. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up, but it was already too late.
Two weeks later, Val was decorating cupcakes in Kyle’s kitchen. She’d made them earlier, but the icing part was the bit she enjoyed the most. Although doing anything in this kitchen was a delight. It wasn’t her industrial kitchen at the bakery, but it was still a dream to work in with its top-quality fittings. It was definitely a far cry from her crappy little kitchen in her flat with a gas oven that burnt everything at the back and dodgy electrics that tripped the circuits every time she used more than two appliances at once.
Which was why she’d made the cupcakes here for Kyle’s little two-year-old second cousin’s birthday party. That, and the fact it was Sunday and she’d woken in his bed yet again. Her flatmate was complaining she didn’t know what Val looked like anymore, but Hannah was pretty loved-up herself at the moment, so Val doubted she was really being missed.
The party was at three, and Kyle would be home from training soon, by which time the cakes should be done and she’d be able to clean up, take a shower, and be ready to go.
She stood back to admire the thick swirls of rainbow icing she’d been piping on top of the cupcakes. She still had a dozen to go, and the unicorn horns still had to be stuck in the centre of each one. Val had made them yesterday at work out of tiny strips of plaited dough, which she’d baked hard then painted in an edible gold spray.
Cupcakes were Val’s favourite thing to decorate—there was so much that could be done with them. She didn’t do any for the bakery because they were too time-consuming, but she jumped at any opportunity to experiment. And apparently Bailee, the birthday girl, was crazy about unicorns.
And what the birthday girl wanted, the birthday girl was going to get. Val smiled to herself, her heart full.
Things were looking up. She was with a man—no matter how clandestine—who made her laugh and swoon and liked Chelsea buns and rugby as much as she did. Kyle seemed to have settled into the team the last couple of weeks. He was playing much less seat-of-your-pants rugby and was a much more useful and productive member of the team.
But the best bit? Her father had been twice more to the bakery, and Kyle was introducing her to his family. Val couldn’t remember a time when she’d been this deeply, deeply happy.
A key in the front door alerted her to Kyle’s arrival, and her heart gave its usual mad lurch. She wondered, as she brushed hair off her face with her wrist, if it was ever going to stop—she hoped not. She remembered his impulsive I think I love you and started to think maybe she was a little bit in love, too.
“Hey, baby.”
Val looked over her shoulder at him, her ovaries lurching this time at the sight of his big, brawny body, his hair still damp from the shower as he strode toward her, his eyes blazing carnal intent. “Hey.”
Her pulse thrummed in anticipation as his long, sure strides ate up the distance between them. He reached her quickly, his hands pulling her into him as he bent her back for a deep, hard kiss. He smelled amazing and tasted all minty, and she clung to him, plundering his mouth as thoroughly as he was hers.
“You’ve been having fun, I see,” he said, finally coming up for air, his hands clamped firmly on her ass.
She followed his gaze around the kitchen, which looked like a mini cyclone had been through it but wouldn’t take her long to put to rights. His eyes fell on the cupcakes and he gaped at her.
“They’re amazing. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble. She’s only two.”
Sure, Bailee was only two, but her mother wasn’t. And neither were Kyle’s other family members she’d be meeting, including his parents. She’d practically invited herself along today, because Kyle hadn’t been keen on her going—something about his family being a little overwhelming en masse—so she definitely wanted to make a good first impression.
“Cupcakes are my happy place.”
“I can see that.” He grinned at her. “You have flour on one cheek and…I think that’s icing on the other. Don’t move.” He held her face still and licked at the smear of icing on her left cheek.
Val knew a lot of women would be grossed out by that. She, on the other hand, was just really freaking turned on.
“Yes.” He pulled away after taking a quick detour to her mouth. “Definitely icing.”
It was gratifying to hear the husky burr to his voice and know he was as turned on as she was.
His gaze dropped to the open collar of her shirt. Or rather, his shirt. “Hmm, that thing looks far better on you than it ever has on me.”
She’d pulled it out of his wardrobe this morning because she’d missed his smell and wanted to wrap herself in it while she cooked. It was a white button-up business shirt with scooped up sides that revealed a large portion of thigh and, with the sun streaming in from behind, was practically transparent. She knew he could see her bare nipples through the fabric and that when she leant over a little he could see right down to her navel.
“You should never wear anything else,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss down her neck and lick along her collarbone to the slight swell of a breast.
“Don’t distract me,” she chided, turning in his arms to the unfinished cupcakes because if she didn’t, she’d jump him for sure, and she didn’t want to be late for this important day. “I’ve still got a dozen to go.”
He reached for one, and she slapped his hand. “No you don’t. I’ve kept some aside for you for later.”
“Fine.” His sigh was warm on her neck as he slid his hands around her middle from behind and perched his chin on her shoulder. “I’ll just watch. I like to watch.”
She smiled as she picked up the piping bag she’d brought from the bakery yesterday. “Pervert.”
Val tried to concentrate on the job. On the steady hand required to form the perfect swirl, while his hard cock pressed into the cheeks of her ass. It’d been a lot easier when he wasn’t here, but this felt cosy and wonderfully domestic and damn if that didn’t feel good.
Within minutes she was piping the last cupcake and inserting the first of the gold horns into the middle of the icing.
His lips brushed her neck. “You give good horn.”
Val laughed and wriggled her ass against him. “You give good horn.” Then she held the cake up in front of them to admire her handiwork. It was pretty damn good, even if she did say so herself.
“You make that look easy.” His lips brushed her neck. “But I bet it’s not.”
“It’s just practice. You want to have a go?”
She’d made some extra cupcakes for Kyle she hadn’t intended to decorate, but there was icing left over.
“Okay.”
Val was conscious of him standing beside her, his arm brushing hers, his hip brushing hers as she demonstrated with the star nozzle how to swirl it just right to make the perfect rosette. Lucky she could do this stuff in her sleep, because her body was buzzing with awareness of him.
It was as if every cell she owned was statically charged and chanting his name.
“Now it’s your turn.”
She handed him the piping bag and placed a cupcake in front of him. He stared at it for a minute, then at the piping bag, then at her. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Chapter Thirteen
He grinned as he grabbed her, upending her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, her ass in the air, her face in the small of his back, her loose hair dragging down the backs of his thighs.
“Kyle,” she half squeaked, half laughed as she held on tight. “What are you doing?”
He took five strides and lowered her into a sitting position on the edge of the dining table. “Lay back.”
Val�
�s belly clenched at the sexual promise in those two deceptively simple words. Heat flared at the juncture of her thighs. She flicked her glance sideways to the piping bag in his hand. “Why?”
He grinned again and applied gentle pressure on her shoulder until the cool glass met the bony prominence of her shoulder blades and the back of her head. The metal of the nozzle clinked on the table as Kyle set the bag down to push her legs apart and step between them. The table was just the right height to make the position very interesting.
His hands smoothed up her thighs, taking the fabric of his shirt with them until the pale blue lace of her underwear was exposed to his gaze. Val’s breath hitched as he stared at the lace like he wanted to rip it off with his teeth.
“We should be getting ready to go,” she said, trying to be the responsible adult. But her voice was hoarse, and the muscles in her ass and belly melted like marshmallow beneath the fiery heat of his gaze.
He ripped then, pulling the tails of the shirt apart in one quick movement. She gasped as the buttons flew in every direction, pinging off walls and furniture and clattering onto the wooden floorboards. “That’s better,” he muttered, his gaze zeroing in on her bared breasts.
She moaned at that look, she couldn’t help it. In fact, she barely suppressed a very primal urge to arch her back. But Kyle wasn’t done with her yet. Her underwear was next, also suffering the same fate. He tore first one side, then the other, and yanked the offending scrap of lace away, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Oh yessss.” His hiss of satisfaction as his gaze took in her full nudity fanned the flames between her legs. “Much better.” He picked up the piping bag, brandishing it as he stared at her, the message in his eyes loud and clear.
She was about to get sticky.
“Now…” He leaned forward slightly, the nozzle hovering over her nipple. “You were saying?”
Val squirmed as the nozzle came closer, resigning herself to the fate of being a human cupcake. She was pretty sure it was a position that was going to work out well for her.
“Steady hands, squeeze the bag with one, direct the nozzle with the other. Rotate your wrist.”
The icing was warm as it oozed onto her nipple, but it might as well have been an ice cube for the way the pale pink flesh scrunched into a taut, tight peak. Her back arched involuntarily, and a hiss of air escaped her lungs as a haze of lust clouded her vision. She was so freaking turned on.
He pulled back to admire his handiwork and cocked an eyebrow. “Like that?”
Val glanced down her body at the rainbow swirl of icing covering her right nipple. Her left nipple was puckered to a point in anticipation. “Not bad for a beginner.”
“You’re right.” He grinned. “I need more practise.”
He shifted to her left nipple and repeated the process. She moaned this time. She couldn’t help it. “Kyle.”
“Look at that…” His tone was light, teasing. “I’m already better.”
Val was too far gone for any kind of critique. “You’ll be an expert before you know it,” she confirmed as the icing, warm and gooey against her, soothed the two aching points of her nipples.
“You know…” His brow crinkled in faux concentration. “I haven’t even tasted it yet.”
Val curled her fists by her sides. “You should probably do that.” Her voice shook, betraying her eagerness to have his mouth on her.
“Right? I mean… It looks really pretty, but that can be deceptive.”
Val’s mouth watered in anticipation as she suddenly wondered what his cock would taste like covered in rosettes of sweet rainbow icing. Placing the piping bag down, he planted a hand on either side of her shoulders and slowly lowered his mouth to a nipple.
“Mmmm.” He didn’t lift his lips, the noise coming from the back of his throat somewhere, buzzing against her skin as his tongue flicked lazily back and forth. “So good,” he muttered before sucking hard.
Val cried out and arched her back, her hands coming up to his head. Involuntarily, her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue trekked across to the other nipple, and he sucked it harder, groaning in appreciation.
He was exceedingly thorough in his removal of every trace. By the time he was done, she was moaning and arching, a string of insensible syllables falling from her lips.
“Okay…” He eased up, her hands falling to her sides as he gazed at her. She lifted her head and looked, too. Her nipples were pink and wet, shiny from the icing and the work of his tongue. “It tastes really good. But I think”—he picked up the piping bag again—“you need some here.”
He moved the nozzle directly above her belly button and squeezed out a rosette. “Damn! I am getting better.” Then he dropped his head and sucked the icing off, his tongue swirling around and around and dipping in to her navel, taking his time to savour every last trace. Val’s abs tightened at the stroke of his tongue, but they were soon melting, oozing into submission the longer he licked.
He pulled away again, and Val was gratified to see lust glittering in his tawny eyes. “Now…” He cocked an eyebrow. “Where next?”
The ache between her legs became a roar as her imagination went haywire, and she had to grind her hips into the table to stop from shamelessly lifting them in offering.
His gaze drifted from her navel to the trimmed red curls between her legs, then back to her face. “There?”
Val tired to suppress the whimper that pressed at the back of her throat. She failed. He smiled a thoroughly dirty, knowing smile.
“You sure are pretty enough there already, but I’m starting to think there can never be enough rosettes in the world.”
Val couldn’t agree more. Hell, she was going to get that tattooed on her ass. She panted as anticipation tightened her buttocks against the table top. “That’s what I always say.”
He shot her a wicked smile that weakened her knees—it was just as well she was horizontal.
He slid one hand under the back of her right thigh. “Bend your knees up, baby. Put your heels on the edge. Let me lay some sugar on you.”
Val’s breathing was thick as soup in her lungs, her legs and loins heavy with desire as she did his bidding, splaying herself wide for him. It was utterly debauched. It was broad daylight and they were about to go to a two-year-old’s birthday party, but Val didn’t care.
She felt sexy and wanton and thoroughly desired.
“Oh yes, baby.” His breath was half hiss, half sigh as he feasted his eyes. “Just like that.”
And then he went to work, his shoulders pushing her knees wider as he bent to the task, the aromas of sugar and vanilla drowning out the smell of her arousal. She shivered, and goose bumps fanned over her belly and down her thighs as his brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he applied himself to the job like Leonardo Da freaking Vinci.
Val clenched and unclenched her hands as sensations of warmth and stickiness kissed the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her breath caught in her chest, and she could feel the slickness of her need building. It was only a minute, but by the time he straightened her body was throbbing with desire.
“There now…” He gazed at his handiwork like he was some celebrated chef who’d just created a masterpiece. She lifted her head and looked, too. The rainbow swirls totally obliterated her mons and the fine red hair between her legs.
If the man didn’t end up in a diabetic coma after this she’d be amazed, but the way he was looking at her and the dull flush of his cheeks told her he’d die happy.
“Man, that’s way too beautiful to eat.”
Val’s gaze flew to his face, her pulse spiking in alarm. Was he freaking serious? If he didn’t get his face down there pronto, she was going yank on his ears and drag him there herself. She was damned if she was going to go all coy and pretend she didn’t want his mouth on her—licking her, tasting her, making her come—after he’d turned her on like a light bulb.
He chuckled, and she realised she’d let
out some kind of feral, outraged whimper. “Don’t worry, baby.” He stroked her thigh in a comforting gesture. “I’m going to lick off every last rosette. I’ll be very thorough. I promise.”
Then he slid his hands onto the table, one on each side of her bent thighs, and lowered his head.
The first swipe of his tongue was like an electric cattle prod, and she cried out at the intensity of it, her head thunking back hard against the glass as her neck lost the ability to hold it upright. The second almost rolled her eyes back in her head. The third had her twisting her fingers so hard in his hair she’d be surprised if he had any left by the time he was through.
Because he was taking his time.
Kyle had said he was going to be thorough, and he hadn’t lied, as Val moaned and writhed and panted through the most comprehensive oral she’d ever had. Kyle was already a master at giving head, but this was some freaky-porn-wizard tongue action, repeatedly taking her to the edge and backing off until all she was capable of was dragging air into her lungs and drooling.
But suddenly, as he built her up again, the muscles in her ass tightening as little daggers of pleasure pricked at the base of her spine, it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to be hovering somewhere outside her body in some lady party for one. She wanted him with her. To be connected to him in the most intimate, elemental way possible.
To have him looming over her, face-to-face, his biceps moving beneath her palms, his cock deep and hard inside her. She wanted to watch him fall apart, to clock the second his orgasm hit and ecstasy contorted his features. And she wanted him to see that same moment in her.
Every tug on her heartstrings, every wispy dream, every waking thought had been consumed by this man since that first night, and she’d made cupcakes and was going to meet his family, and she wanted him to be in this moment with her.
No just creating it. Participating in it.
She wanted him inside her in the worst way.
Val gasped as his tongue eased its intensity off her clit, sliding lower to tease and stoke some more. “Kyle.” It came out on a low pant, which he didn’t appear to hear, and she tried again. “Kyle.”