Sweet Valentine

by Aria Cole

  “Like molten chocolate running through my veins.”

  His chin tipped up, a little cocky, a lot sexy. “That sounds delicious.”

  I nodded, thinking it was. The way he made me feel was so delicious. I’d never felt this way before.

  “Give me five minutes.” His thumb ran down the line of my neck, sending shivers skittering over my skin.

  “Three,” I husked, feeling guilt at even the thought of taking a break right now.

  “Five, Valentine,” he replied, and my stomach turned.

  “Everyone calls me V.”

  His lips tipped again, brushing across the hollow of my neck. “Then that’s exactly why I’ll keep calling you Valentine.”

  Good, I wanted to say. I loved the way my name sounded on his lips. I’d spent so much of my life ashamed of my name, embarrassed that I was named after a holiday for lovesick fools. The irony wasn’t lost on me that while I despised most things love and romance related, I’d found myself owner of a bakery that specialized in…Valentine’s sweets.

  If the money wasn’t so good this week, I’d close the doors and go on vacation.

  Instead I would work my ass off, make three quarters of my yearly salary, then go home exhausted on Valentine’s night and eat a pint of Baskin Robbins and binge-watch Real Housewives. Their lives were way more messed up than mine, right? I worked hard, did something I loved every day, and came home alone to share it with no one but my sweet cat, Cupcake.

  Cupcake and I spent a lot of nights together on the couch.

  So I guess Knox wasn’t wrong when he said I needed a break.

  I finally relented. “Five minutes, then it’s back to the piping.”

  He placed a soft kiss at my neck and grinned. “Great, go sit down. Let me serve you.”

  I almost fell on the floor at his feet.

  I didn’t know where in the hell Knox had come from, but I was liking him a little more with every passing moment.

  “So how long has Sweet Tooth been open?” he asked a while later as we sat across from each other at the small two-top table in the front window.

  “Little over a two years. I’ve worked at a few different bakeries. No one ever wanted to try the new things I was making. I have this thing with deconstructing desserts we all know, using natural ingredients so they taste like what we remember, even if they don’t look like it.”

  He nodded, breaking a piece of croissant off and sliding is past his full lips. Devilish lips. Distracting lips. I wondered what they would feel like trailing across my breasts. My nipples were puckering now just thinking about it.

  I’d made the mistake yesterday of wearing a low-cut top, but it was my most comfortable one that was still appropriate for work, or so I’d thought. Until Knox had caught me bending over showcasing a full view of my generous cleavage for his eyes to eat up…and they had.

  Every time he looked at me it was like he wanted to eat me, and why did that feel so good? Why did that make me horny with the promise of the things he might do? I’d never even been exposed to sex much—a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing serious.

  But this man. He was older, experienced.

  “When will the job next door be done?” I tried to shift the conversation.

  “Few weeks. Electricians are scheduled later this week, then it’s just finishings. The loud banging will be done this week.” He crooked his head to the side as he spoke.

  “You’ve been pretty distracting this week.” I popped my corner of the croissant in my mouth. Chocolate sauce with just a hint of cayenne—it produced a warmth in the belly that was satisfying every time. My chocolate croissants were lethal.

  “In all fairness, Valentine.” Knox’s eyes cut to mine, a deep grin tipping his mouth. “You’ve been pretty distracting yourself.”

  Hi swords rattled through my brain like a slow-moving locomotive.

  I’d been distracting?

  My voice rose an octave. “In what possible way could I be distracting to you?”

  His smile widened. Damn those dimples. “You don’t see the way men react to you, do you?” My eyes dropped to his hands tearing at the pastry, then tossing another piece into his mouth. “You’re fucking mouthwatering, Valentine. Every one of those bastards next door wants to bend you over and see what’s under the frilly little apron you prance around in.”

  “Prance?!” I nearly leapt out of my chair, my blood at a full boil. “I knew contractors were pigs, but I was beginning to think you weren’t one of them, Knox.”

  His eyes shut when I stood from the chair, wiping my hands on the homemade apron. The one my grandmother had given me, the one he was talking about, the one I loved so much. “Feel free to take your business elsewhere, Knox.”

  His chuckle followed me. I sensed his eyes eating up my form as I retreated. I regretted the skirt I’d chosen to wear. I suddenly felt suffocated by the turtleneck I’d slid on this morning. I hated the thought of being ogled by men—it was revolting—but when Knox’s eyes were on me, why did it feel like utter satisfaction? Like appreciation and adoration and desire, all rolled into an intoxicating head rush?

  “I won’t take my business anywhere else, Valentine.” He was behind me then, one hand hovering at my back—to be a gentleman? To be possessive? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it both ways. “Your talents are too sweet to pass up. But I have to get back to work and try to concentrate on my job instead of getting high on thoughts of you and how sweet you must taste.”

  I sucked in a soft breath, instantly regretting the emptiness that settled in when he took his hand from my back and walked away.

  Damn him.

  Damn me.

  The chauvinistic assholes next door couldn’t be gone from my life soon enough.

  Chapter Three

  Valentine

  Later that night, long after I’d locked up the doors to the bakery, I was still working diligently in the kitchen. The sweet smells of caramel flooded my nostrils as I stirred a simmering pot on the stovetop. Just one more batch of smothered pralines and then maybe I could think about cleaning up and getting out of there for the night.

  Maybe picking up a pizza on the way home and catching The Late Show before closing my eyes for five hours and doing it all over again tomorrow.

  Ugh.

  Valentine’s week was hell.

  I added a dash of vanilla to the pot just as the opening notes of Neil Young’s ‘Harvest Moon’ echoed through the walls from next door. I sucked in a quick breath on instinct. Every time I heard this song it reminded me of my father and mother dancing when I was young. His hands around her waist, her head tucked into his neck. They had a beautiful love, and this song brought me right back to that memory. I wanted a love like theirs. I craved someone to share everything with, as they did.

  I found myself swaying to the song, lulled by the melody, my memories of the man over there softening. I’d seen his truck outside all day, and since it’d been there when I last looked outside, I’d known he was pulling a late night, too. I was just thankful that whatever he was doing was quiet.

  Now I thought of him over there all alone, probably hungry, or at least thirsty. Working late nights wasn’t ever easy, and while Knox rubbed me the wrong way, I sensed something in him. A similarity. A kinship. Something lonely. And while I’d grown up in this small town, most of my friends had left for college and never came back. A new friend never hurt anyone, and kindness goes far in life, so before the song was even over I’d made up my mind to take Knox a peace offering. Maybe even apologize for my rash reaction earlier.

  Just as long as he didn’t bait me about teasing him in aprons again. There was a feminist fire in my bones, and I didn’t want to have to kick him in the balls.

  I added cocoa powder and sugar to a pan, stirring in milk and vanilla, a dash of my special hot cocoa seasoning, then poured the steaming liquid into two wide mugs.

  As the music of ‘Such a Woman’ started, I opened the door of the business next door an
d walked into a dimly lit construction zone. Balancing the tray, I walked through the room, guided by the music. I turned a corner and found Knox on one knee, brushing a coat of pearly white paint along the trim.

  Seeing him down there, the sweet notes of the song echoing around us, the faint scent of sawdust filling my nostrils…something changed. Something hit me. Something shifted inside me, and I knew that Knox was different. He was unlike any man I’d met before.

  “Evening, neighbor,” I kneeled on the floor next to him, setting the tray of hot cocoa between us. “Peace offering?”

  His eyes held mine, slow and steady. I thought my heart might launch straight out of my throat. Like a spell pulling me under, his gaze hypnotized all the sensible parts of me, made my brain foggy and my heart ache for things I’d never thought I’d find.

  “Thanks, Valentine.” He finally broke the silence, eyes riveted on mine as he took the mug in his hand and brought it to his lips.

  I never wanted to be an inanimate object more than I did in that moment. His smooth lips caressing my skin would drive me insane.

  He chugged half the mug, then set it between us. “That’s incredible.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Neil sang, ‘No one else can kill me like you do, no one else can fill me like you do,’ and a balloon of emotion swelled inside me. “Good song.”

  “Great song.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “So what brought you over here, sugar?”

  My stomach flipped at his words. My palms burned with an itch so distracting I thought I might die if I didn’t leap into his arms and beg him to kiss me. How could a man who drove me to insanity drive me so crazy with lust at the same exact moment? I sucked in a breath, summoning some strength. “I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually have outbursts like that.”

  “Outbursts?” He chuckled. “That wasn’t an outburst. That was cute.” He leaned a little closer. “And I’ll tell you a secret—I like you a little riled up.”

  My heart thundered like a thousand wild horses were trampling it. His touch, on me. His breath like a summer’s kiss on my skin. His words crawling deep within me and twisting up my insides in the best possible way.

  This man had a way of turning me to mush with just a couple of words and a look.

  “I think you’re such a woman,” he sang at my ear just as the closing notes of the song faded.

  Oh my god.

  My hands were shaking, yet to me they felt like embers singeing my skin

  “What the hell was in that hot chocolate? I feel like you’ve put a spell on me.” He grunted, one hand sliding across my knee as he retreated from me.

  “Um.” I pushed a hand through my hair. Knox had me so damn flustered. “Ghost pepper. Just a pinch.”

  “Ghost pepper?” His laugh echoed off the four walls of my heart. “What are ya doing

  , tryin’ to kill me?”

  My eyes flashed to his. “If I was tryin’ to kill you, you’d know.”

  We sat, silence filling the space between us.

  Was he mad?

  Did I care?

  And why the hell was I so turned on?

  I pressed my thighs together, desperate to relieve the ache that’d settled.

  His grin tipped then, and his eyes flashed as he shook his head. A low laugh carried on the dusty air around us before the next song on the playlist started. ‘Natural Beauty.’ My father had always hummed the words to this song in my mom’s ear. I remember thinking it was one of the most romantic things I’d ever seen.

  Love.

  I sighed, tears pricking my eyes at the memory as I tried to shake myself back into the present.

  “What’s that face, sugar?” He crossed the distance between us again, hands cupping my cheeks, eyes inspecting the planes of my face as if he were willing the answer from my pores.

  I clamped down on my bottom lip and shut my eyes. “This song. This whole album… It means a lot to me.”

  Knox’s arms were around my waist then, pulling me against his chest to stand with him. With one hand around my lower back, he cupped my neck and tucked my head into the space between his shoulder and neck. “It’s a great fucking album.”

  He swayed us back and forth, humming here and there as I melted into his embrace.

  And right there, covered in sawdust, in Knox’s arms, to the music of Neil Young, I lost my heart.

  Chapter Four

  Knox

  Having Valentine in my arms was hell.

  Total hell, because I couldn’t have more, and from the second I’d laid eyes on her I’d wanted more.

  I’d been barely holding myself back these last few days, the urge to grip her sweet hips was strong. I held back for one reason…one reason I’d been grappling with, one that left me up and sleepless at night thinking about her.

  “Valentine…” I cradled her face in my hands, stilling as the music spun on around us. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, but I’ve got to know something right now before we go any further.”

  She looked up at me with wide, inquisitive eyes. Jesus, those eyes did things to me. Made my balls throb all day and haunted my dreams all night.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.” she answered swiftly. Twenty-four. Jesus. I could be her father.

  “And my age doesn’t bother you? I was 15 when you were born” I readied my heart for the blow.

  “Hmm…” She tipped her head to the side, fingers grazing my temple. “Well, I kind of like the salt and pepper thing you have going on. And the little lines that crinkle when you smile are cute. And the laugh lines at your mouth tell me you like to enjoy yourself.” Her fingertips drifted to the bow of my lips. “And don’t they say with age comes wisdom?”

  The way her eyes hammered up at me almost made me lose my head. I nearly dropped to my knees right there and begged her to marry me. I was that far gone. “I do believe I’ve heard that, yes.”

  “Well, I didn’t say it applied to you. But maybe someday.” She patted me on the cheek, her lips turning up in a sarcastic smirk.

  “Valentine…” I growled, holding her tighter to my body and grazing her earlobe with my teeth. “I could be your father.”

  “I don’t care about that,” she whispered, fingertips locking behind my neck, lips brushing against the hot skin of my collarbone as she spoke. Christ, I wanted to take care of her, make her mine, give her the life and the love she deserved.

  “You give zero fucks about my age, sugar?” My hands were trailing down her back now, skimming the curve of her ass cheeks under that knee-length skirt she wore.

  “Well, unless you’re going to tell me you’re a three-hundred-year-old vampire, I’m good.” She snaked one hand around my waist and pushed a hand into the back pocket of my jeans.

  A low growl rolled from my chest before I did the first spontaneous thing I’d done in years. “I want you all to myself.”

  Our lips connected, my hands snaking into the waves of her soft hair, our bodies clinging together like we’d been fucking starved.

  Hell, I had been.

  I’d been starved for her.

  I’m not sure what in the hell it was, but something about sweet Valentine made me need her, made me want to protect her, love her in all the ways a man loves a woman. It was a new feeling to me. Never in all my years on this planet had I looked someone in the eye and just fucking known.

  “Kissing you should be wrong, Valentine, but why the hell does it feel so right?”

  Her fingers tightened at my shoulders, her lips hovering against mine as our bodies mingled. “That felt incredible.”

  I grinned when she pressed a fingertip to the soft bow of her lips, as if she was reliving the moment. Hell, I for sure would be doing the same later tonight, my dick fisted in my hand. “I want you, Valentine. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” I dropped my hands from her soft form, putting some distance between us. “Bu
t I don’t want to take anything that isn’t mine to take. I want you to be sure. I want you to know that when this happens that I will be yours and you sure as hell will be mine”

  She seemed to crumble before me, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched sadly. “You’re only taking what I offer…”

  I pushed a hand through my hair, warring within myself. Take this sweet, delicate woman and dirty her with my rough hands, my demanding personality, my anti-social attitude. She was so bright, she was like a breath of fresh air—would taking her for my own ruin that? “Valentine…you’re so young still…”

  Her head shook back and forth fiercely before she advanced on me, pushing her fists into the fabric of my T-shirt. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me. I’ve never fit in with people my age. I worked full time through college, managed to pay off all my debts by the time I graduated, and still had enough money saved for the down payment on this building. I may have been born twenty-four years ago, Knox, but I feel older than that, and a hell of a lot wiser.”

  The way she stood against me, eyes boring into mine as she spoke, cracked my heart in two. She was right. I’d found myself wrapped up in Valentine because she’d seemed so much older. Just the wise way she thought first and spoke second had drawn me to her. She observed, she was thoughtful, she was driven, and incredibly talented.

  “I don’t doubt it for a second, sugar.” I cupped her face in my palms, suddenly feeling very protective of her. “We should get you home.”

  “I walked. I’m just around the corner.”

  “You don’t walk alone anymore. From now on I’ll pick you up and take you home.”

  I silenced her protest with a kiss. Slow, probing, gentle, but with promise.

  There was no holding back for me and Valentine anymore. That much was for damn sure, but I’d still take my time. Moving at her pace might be agonizing torture for me, but I’d do it for her. I’d do anything for her.

  “If we do this much longer I’m going to say fuck the dirty floor and the windows and get inside you right here.” The words came out more like a growl. Controlling myself hurt like hell.