Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Ah … oh.” Penny ruffled one hand through her hair. “Good Morning, Beth.” Her face turned a shade brighter, matching her red hair. “I … I was just saying how …”

  Jeanine’s eyes dropped to the floor and her shoulders caved in as though she wanted to disappear.

  I’d worked at Plack Industries long enough to know that Penny was the gossip queen. She’d blab her mouth to anyone listening. Jeanine was probably just the innocent bystander getting coffee.

  Penny shifted from one foot to the other. “I was just saying how I love … our new coffee machine.”

  Jeanine chewed on her bottom lip. “Yeah. Though I think I want a cup of Starbucks right now.” She reached for Penny’s hand and pulled her toward the door. Her other hand held her mug full of coffee. “Bye, Beth.”

  Neither met my eyes as they skittered out of the kitchen.

  My hands twisted in front of me as I walked back to my office and hid behind a tall cube, swift and ninja style as I listened to the chatter of a group of women on the other side of the wall. When I realized they were talking about the new Channing Tatum movie, I straightened and strolled back to my room.

  Judging from the few words that Penny had shared with Jeanine, news had spread that Kent Plack was not in a good mood. His melancholy mood toward me this morning had been replaced with irritation toward everyone in the office. This was another example of Kent not separating his work life from his personal life. It was our fight to handle and he shouldn’t have been taking it out on everyone else.

  After I shut the door behind me and turned toward my desk, I staggered to a halt. My eyes widened at my new gift. Plopped on my keyboard this time was the one thing that I could not send back to sender. One thing that I couldn’t deny myself or give away to the accounting department. My number one weakness in the whole entire world was sitting prettily on my desk, second only to Kent’s touch.

  Cammie’s.

  One word on top of the pink box that topped any Tiffany box I would ever receive. Cammie’s cupcakes.

  I let out a dramatic sigh as I stepped forward.

  I shouldn’t open it … I wouldn’t be able to deny myself one taste, one bite of their delicious cupcake if I opened the box. Cammie’s was in the suburbs, forty-five minutes away from us. I knew they didn’t deliver because, if they did, I would have had them deliver daily. I wondered who Kent had paid to drive all the way out to the suburbs to bring me back cupcakes. Whoever it was, I sent them a silent thank you.

  My fingers trembled as I used my fingernail to break the tape holding the box together. I opened the box just a little, peered inside, and shut it again. My mouth salivated knowing what was within my reach. I flipped open the top again and my eyes feasted on six of my favorite cupcakes, all the same kind. Cammie’s Cookie Dough with chocolate filling. Oh my word.

  My husband was evil. Pure evil.

  If I took a bite, I’d be giving in. I’d be the loser.

  I glanced at the cupcakes again, far longer than normal. The chocolate icing was swirled perfectly on the top. My mouth watered as I mentally pictured myself taking a big bite of half of the cupcake and letting the moist goodness touch my tongue, slide down my throat, and into my belly. Maybe I should withhold sex more often and get Cammie’s on a daily basis.

  Only one more day to go, I told myself. One more day …

  I thought about it. I could keep the cupcakes till tomorrow and then eat them all by myself, but they wouldn’t taste as moist and as fresh as they would today. Ugh.

  I battled internally. If I took one measly bite, he would win. So there was no way I could accept his gift of apology.

  Or could I?

  Maybe he’d never know …

  And then I decided—Yes! He’d never know.

  I stuck my finger into the icing, placed my finger in my mouth, and released a sigh. It was so good—too good—that I couldn’t stop myself. I ran to my office door and locked it, then I grabbed the first cupcake out of the box, opening my mouth wide and taking the first bite, swallowing it whole. With the next bite, the whole cupcake was in my mouth. I reached for the second cupcake. It was even better than the first! My mouth was experiencing an orgasm, and there was a major party going on in my belly. The frosting was all over my hands, a sign of my guilt, but I licked it clean, every single finger.

  I anchored myself against the edge of the desk and closed the box as guilt suddenly rose within me. But boy was it worth it. I straightened and the next thought filtered through my foodgasm—I had to get rid of the evidence.

  Determined to pass out the remaining four cupcakes, I flew out of my office. But I stopped when I heard sniffles behind my secretary’s high cubicle. Turning the corner, I saw my secretary, Abby, consoling Kent’s secretary, Faith, who was sitting at the edge of the desk, her eyes red from tears.

  I placed the box of cupcakes down and put my hand on her shoulder. “Faith, are you okay?” My eyebrows knitted together.

  She hiccupped and then shook her head. “Sorry. Just rough day. I’m fine. Really.” She swiped at her eyes and sniffled.

  “What’s the matter?” I pressed.

  She shook her head again. “I don’t think I have a job anymore.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Mr. Plack is in a mood and everything Faith does is wrong, which makes no sense cause she’s like perfect.” Abby continued to console Faith by rubbing her back.

  Kent was being ridiculous, taking out his anger on everyone else.

  “Here.” I reached into the box and handed her a cupcake. “This’ll make you feel better. Trust me.”

  My sympathy for Kent was gone now. I stormed down the hall, up the stairs, and into Kent’s office, shutting the door behind me.

  “What?” His voice was terse as his head flipped up from his computer screen. When he realized it was me, his eyes immediately softened.

  “Why are you being such a jerk?” I stepped toward his desk and placed both hands on my hips. “Seriously, this is why everyone in the office is scared of you. You need to apologize to Faith. Now.” My jaw clenched and my eyes meant business.

  When he stood, I froze. He rounded his desk, coming closer, and my pulse ticked up in tempo at his nearness, at the way his eyes scoured my body and my face. “Did you like my present?”

  “What?” I lifted one curious eyebrow, pretending that I didn’t know what he was talking about. That song “It wasn’t me” played loudly in my head. There was no way I was admitting to anything.

  “My presents that I’ve been sending you.” He stepped closer and his eyes lightened as though he was in on a little secret.

  I tiled my head to the side. “Uh, your mom loved the necklace, if that’s what you’re talking about.” Goosebumps prickled my skin at his proximity, despite my casual tone.

  “How about the roses?” He took one more step toward me, his eyes all-knowing.

  “Oh yeah, those.” I blinked rapidly, my heartbeat picking up in tempo. “Well, Carol, Jim, Brad, and Jenny appreciated them.”

  “And how about the cupcakes?” He smirked.

  “Cup … Cupcakes?” I played dumb, then nodded like I understood. “Yeah, Faith and Abby loved the cupcakes.” My lips parted when he advanced toward me.

  “Is that so?” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Yup.” I fidgeted with the side of my skirt, trying to keep a straight face.

  “They are your favorite,” he said, not believing for a second that I gave away all of the cupcakes.

  “Mmhmm,” I squeaked as he stepped into me, my pulse skyrocketing.

  “Did it taste good?” His voice lowered as his warm breath brushed against my face.

  My words lodged in my throat. Finally, I croaked out, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He lifted his finger and gently touched the corner of my mouth, which caused my internal temperature to rise to a feverish heat. My eyes widened when he placed his finger in his mouth and sucked. “Mmm. Chocolate.
”

  Busted. My face burned lobster red.

  “Whatever,” I dismissed him, waving one hand in the air. “It doesn’t change anything.” I turned to leave, but he held my wrist and flipped me around to face him.

  “There’s some chocolate leftover.” He stared at my lips, his eyes fixed so intently on my mouth that a pool of desire stirred in my belly. “I’ve been a bad, bad, bad, bad boy,” he said slowly, pulling me closer and moving his hand from my wrist to my hip. His touch scorched me, burned me, I felt the heat of it pool between my thighs. “And I’m sorry.”

  He gripped my hip, using all five fingers to dig into my skirt, so hard that I felt it branded on my flesh. “But I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” He lowered his head to mine, meeting my eyes. “I’m tired of fighting. I’ve been punished enough.” He flicked his tongue to lick the last of the chocolate icing from the side of my mouth. “Now, I want what is mine.”

  With one hand on the nape of my neck and one hand on my hip, he tugged me to him and bent down to meet my lips. He kissed me, slow, savoring my mouth. Every move was deliberately perfect as he meshed into me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, smooth and silky, and my body melted into his, molding against him, my husband.

  I had given in. I had lost.

  But I felt like I hadn’t had air to breathe in days, in forever, and this was my first breath, my first gasp for air and I needed it. Needed more. I fisted his shirt in my hands, but still it wasn’t enough. I wanted him. All of him. Here. That was all I could think of. That was all that filled my mind and my body instantly reacted.

  Suddenly, I was being lowered to the floor, my knees falling to the sides as I cradled him between my legs. We didn’t lock the door, but at this point I didn’t care. Because if his lips released me and we lost contact, I wouldn’t be able to take it.

  His hands were everywhere, gripping, teasing, and caressing. All I heard was the smacking of our lips, the ruffling of our clothes, and the unbuckling of his belt. And then all at once, he was in me, moving above me, fast and hard.

  I felt him everywhere and he felt so wonderfully good.

  My moaning intensified and I wondered if they could hear me outside, but not one part of me cared. All that concerned me was that he didn’t stop.

  My head dropped to the side, giving him access to my neck. His mouth suckled, licked, and tasted my sensitive flesh. I bit down on my lips, hard enough to taste blood so I could control the loud sounds of ecstasy that escaped my mouth. He covered my mouth when the build-up intensified and tingled in my toes. I bit down on his hand and let out a loud scream as the orgasm overtook my body. Hard. Real hard.

  As his breathing intensified, he dropped his hand and muffled my cries with his mouth, pushing fast into me until I felt him pump himself one last time, ending with both of us collapsing onto the floor. When our heavy breathing subsided and exhaustion hit, it was as if we had run an Olympic marathon in a short period of time.

  After a few seconds, he lifted himself and cradled my face. “Baby, that was amazing.” There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I should be a bad boy more often.”

  His words set me off, and I hated myself in that moment. I hated that I had given into temptation because I had wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. Which, I get it. We were married, it was natural. But it was as though he was taunting me and he hadn’t learned his lesson.

  I shoved his chest, instantly mad, because he’d won. I had no restraint when it came to this man, and these last few days of punishment had been for nothing. He’d just had me on his office floor, and I was sure I’d have rug burn on my back.

  Way to separate work from our personal life. I couldn’t do it myself.

  “Get off me.” I pushed at his hardness. Damn him and his immovable muscles.

  He held both of my hands and lifted them above my head, trapping me. When he tried to kiss me, I turned my head and he grazed my cheek. “I’m kidding, baby.”

  When I didn’t answer, he used one hand to keep both of my hands above my head, while his free hand turned my face to meet his. “I’m kidding. I’ve been in hell the last few days. It’s not worth it.” Sincerity suddenly showed in his eyes, and I felt myself tearing up. “This is the last time I’m making love to you in the office. Not in a conference room, not in the copy room. Never again.” He took a firm grip of my cheeks, making me pucker up. “I promise. Okay?”

  All playfulness aside, I knew he was telling the truth.

  He waited for my answer, not breaking eye contact. “I don’t ever want to fight like this again.”

  “Okay,” I said, relaxing underneath him.

  He released my hands, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to bring him closer, missing these moments over the past few days.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered against his ear.

  And just when I thought we couldn’t be any closer, he pulled me flush against him and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of my neck. “I’ve missed you more.” His voice shook with emotion. “You have no idea how much. No idea.”

  We held each other for a few more minutes before he stood and extended his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was the quickest make up sex ever.”

  I went on my toes and kissed his lips. “Well, it’s been a while. A whole two and a half days.” I widened my eyes and teased my husband.

  “I’ll have to make it up to you tonight.” The devilish glint was in his eyes again. “And every night after that.”

  I lifted one shoulder to my ear in a flirtatious manner. “That’s what I’m counting on, husband of mine. Until death do us part.”

  The End

  Mia Kayla is a New Adult/Contemporary Romance writer who lives in Illinois. She is the wife to the husband of the year and mommy to three unbelievable cute little girls who have multiplied her grey hairs.

  In her free time she loves reading romance novels, jamming to boy bands, catching up on celebrity gossip and designing flowers for weddings.

  Most of the time, she can be caught on the train with her nose in a book sporting a cheeky grin because the main characters finally get their happily-ever-after at the end.

  She loves reading about happy endings but has more fun writing them.

  Find more about her:

  www.miakayla.blogspot.com

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  Storm Chaser Honeymoon by Molly Lee

  What do storm chasers do on a honeymoon after a roadside wedding? Catch more storms or take a more traditional route? The best of both worlds, Dash and Blake decide to work and play, but can they keep their heads on straight long enough to survive what happens next?

  DASH

  “I can’t believe you actually let me marry you two,” Paul said, smacking me on the back.

  I glanced over where Blake and her mother were climbing into the Mockingjay, rain soaking my clothes. “I can’t believe it’s done,” I said, my blood still pumping a mixture of pure adrenaline and joy from our quick mid-storm wedding not two seconds ago. “Now.” I cleared my throat, forcing my brain to stop pondering all the ways in which I was going to make Blake scream my name tonight. “I’ll take the Mockingjay south-east of the storm. You have a good position here. Snap some shots then follow our path but hang back a half-mile.”

  “All business, now.” Paul chuckled. “You got it.”

  I gave him a quick hug, slapping his back before the gratitude flooded out of my system. “Thanks, bro,” I said, letting him go. “It wouldn’t have been as perfect anywhere else.”

  Paul shrugged. “I am perfection.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just make sure your shots are.”

  “When are they not?” He called to me as I raced over to the Mockingjay.

  I sank behind the wheel of our new chase vehicle, shocked by how well it quieted the storm raging outside. The thunder that had rumbled my chest moments ago was a soft base inside the car.

  “Needed some bro time?” Blake teased, ar
ching an eyebrow at me from the passenger seat.

  “What?” I grinned, starting the car. “He just gave me the world. I had to thank him.”

  “Awh, Dash—” she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes honing in on the opened laptop screen before her. “Whoa, rotation spike. We need to move.”

  “On it!” I hit the gas, spinning us around to head down the way we’d come in. When I’d scanned the radar this morning, the cell wasn’t supposed to gather steam until an hour or so from now. I thought that would give us plenty of time for the surprise proposal and wedding, but naturally, mother nature had other ideas.

  I spared a glance at Blake, her eyes calculating, her hair and clothes soaked from the rain. I couldn’t regret how the storm had made a surprise appearance at our roadside wedding. We lived for moments like these, and it wouldn’t be wholly us if it had happened any other way.

  “Is it always this bumpy?” Ms. Caster asked from the backseat, her nails digging into the headrest behind Blake.

  “Usually it’s worse,” Blake answered, never taking her eyes off the sky.

  The wheels of the Mockingjay had better traction than my truck but weren’t completely skid resistant. I eased up on the gas a fraction, reminding myself I had my new mother-in-law’s safety to consider. With Blake, it wasn’t even a question, but we knew the stakes that came with the chase probably better than anyone. Still, I wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with a non-chaser in the car.

  “How close do you want me to get, Blake?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t take her mother an inch closer than Blake deemed safe.

  “Oh,” she said, glancing back at her mom for a moment before returning her eyes to the sky. “Let’s stay at least six-hundred yards out.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and it took all my control to focus on the road ahead of me.

  “You got it,” I said, the rain hitting the windshield in sheets that made visibility difficult.

  “How close do you normally get?” Her mother asked.

  I eyed Blake, who shook her head.

  “It depends on the storm,” I said, taking a sharp right on a side road that would give us an optimal position to catch the funnel formation.