Baking Up Love Page 6

  Most of my vacation time was eaten up by staying as long as I had. I’d get a little leeway due to grieving but eventually, I’d have to go back.

  Or you could quit.

  I couldn’t keep putting it off. This was a decision I’d have to make, and sooner rather than later it seemed.

  There was enough saved up in my account, that I could live comfortably here for quite a while without getting another job. Plus what was in Dad’s accounts that I had planned to use to bring all the past dues current. But with the boom in business, I hadn’t needed to.

  While I didn’t have to pay for rent, I would need a car.

  I had no idea how Thomas got around without one. I didn’t have big strapping arms bulging with muscle to carry thirty grocery bags at once down the street and up the stairs to the apartment.

  And I needed to start pulling my weight around here. I was beginning to feel bad that Thomas was washing, cooking, cleaning, and getting groceries. I didn’t want him thinking I was taking advantage of him.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth.

  The problem was, I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in ages. Back in New York I mostly ordered out. Or I’d get one of those boxes of fresh ingredients with step-by-step instructions on how to cook a meal any idiot could understand.

  Most everything was delivered or came with a guide on what to do. When it came down to choosing the right cut of beef, I couldn’t tell one from the other. I didn’t know what a “chuck” was versus a “skirt” and all the random nouns they used only confused me further.

  Thomas taught me how to make eggs the way he did. Creamy, almost custard-like in their consistency and cooked to perfection. I’d never been terribly fond of eggs but the way he made them was like a dream. I could eat them every day and never get sick of it.

  Then it hit me. The solution was sitting in front of me - technically below me and probably standing by now. How did Thomas get so damn good at cooking and baking?

  He learned and experimented.

  He hadn’t gone to culinary school - though I was thinking of getting him to go to one just to see if there was something he could learn - and he was an excellent teacher.

  I could have him teach me.

  We’d get to spend more time together, which was a definite bonus and I could learn how to cook. Eventually, I’d be able to cook some nights for him. I got an MBA from one of the most prestigious colleges in America. How hard could it be?

  Very hard, as it turned out.

  “Oh God, what do I do?” I cried out. The flames roared and washed me in scorching heat. I found a glass of water nearby and tried to put out the dancing flames.

  Thomas was there in a heartbeat. He caught my wrist just in time and with his other hand dropped the lid onto the pan. He let go of my wrist and turned down the burner on the stove.

  “Never use water on an oil fire, in general, your best move is to smother it. You can usually salvage what you were making that way too.”

  I bit my lip. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I was only making a simple braised chicken - simple for Thomas as least - and he’d only turned his back to chop up some vegetables when it happened.

  I thought since he said medium-low heat for fifteen minutes I could turn it up to high and cut the time in half or less. It made sense.

  Apparently, that’s not how that works.

  But Thomas wasn’t mad. He was patient and kind even after a long day of work. He stood there with me and made sure I did all the steps myself. He supervised but never once took over for me. Never said “here, just let me do it,” like so many men do when they get upset or impatient.

  I learned a lot.

  Way more than I thought I would. And in the end, I felt proud for having made a significant contribution to dinner. Thomas plated the food, showing me how to cut the chicken and how long to let it rest beforehand.

  “Otherwise the juices are still moving around and you get dry meat.” He flashed a childish smirk. “Nobody likes dry meat.”

  I stifled a juvenile snort of my own. “No, dry meat is the worst.”

  We sat across from each other at the table, tangling our legs beneath it while we talked about our day. Typical couples stuff that I always thought was the most boring thing in the world until it happened to me.

  Everything about his day seemed so fascinating, so enrapturing.

  I could sit here and listen to him talk for eternity.

  Being the gentleman that he was, he didn’t. He asked about my day and I told him the short version. No reason to bore him. I wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting, the gritty business side of managing was dreadfully mundane.

  “So you finally hired some help.”

  “I did, yeah. It’ll give me more time to try a few things out. I wanted to try selling the coffee I roast. Maybe a small trial run. I wanted to get your thoughts on it first if you don’t mind?”

  I was touched that he wanted my opinion. So many guys I knew, even actual equity business partners would trample all over their partner, especially if it was a woman. They thought they knew best and here was Thomas wanting my opinion.

  It was a girl’s dream. Strong and handsome, took initiative but checked with you. What did I ever do to deserve such a man?

  “I love that you wanted my thoughts on it,” I said, reaching under the table and stroking the inside of his thigh with my bare foot. The reaction was immediate. I felt the thickening bulge of his cock straining against his jeans. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to ask my permission, okay?”

  He groaned, low and bestial in the back of his throat. It sent shivers through my body. I pulled my foot away, watching the hunger in his eyes deepen. He tensed like a predator ready to pounce and I knew in an instant the part I wanted to play.

  I pushed away from the table making a squeal of my own to match the chair’s and sprinted for the bedroom. He rounded the table a fraction of a second later. I made it three steps into the bedroom before he scooped me up off my feet and up into his arms.

  In all the times we’ve played this little game, I have never managed to make it to the bed. But I was getting better. I made it three steps into the room that time.

  My all-time high score.

  Thomas circled my nose with his. “I love you, Claire.”

  I looked deep into his coffee-dark eyes, saw the depths of love there that threatened to swallow me whole and gladly welcomed the opportunity. No more fear. “I love you too.”

  A mischievous grin lit his face a moment before I realized what he was going to do. My eyes widened in alarm and I barely got out the words, “Oh no you d-” before he tossed me into the air as effortlessly as a pillow onto the bed.

  I squealed and landed with a soft bounce on the plush bed, conveniently on my back with legs spread. He was there at the foot of the bed staring at me with unmasked hunger and awe.

  I loved the way he looked at me. The way he shouted his love for me with every motion, every look. I could never get enough.

  It was my turn. Propped up on my elbows, I beckoned him with a curling finger. “Why don’t you come here and show me how much you love me?”

  8

  Thomas

  I was on top of her before I was aware of what I was doing. My body moved on its own, eager to show her just how much I loved her.

  My hands worked to slip her out of her clothes, a cute black cardigan over a maroon tank top that hugged her like a second skin. I bit my lip and raked my eyes over her, giving her enough time to blush and find the courage to unbutton my pants.

  Working my way down to her pants, I moved out of her reach. She didn’t seem to mind because her hands immediately went to pull my shirt off, leaving my pants half undone. I managed to get her pants and panties off in one go before she pulled my shirt up over my head.

  There was something sexy about the way we were opposed to each other. Her top was still on but from the waist down she was bare.

&nbs
p; We both stared at each other. I was still wondering how I was so lucky to have a woman this amazing, not to mention gorgeous, want to be with me.

  I had no idea what was going through her head but the way she blushed and writhed beneath me gave me a good idea.

  Claire reached out questing fingertips for my waistband but I had other plans. Staring at her without her pants on with those shapely hips and long legs that went on for days made all rational thought fly out of my head.

  She let out a squeak of surprise followed by a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure as I lifted her legs up onto my shoulders and buried my face between her legs. Something about seeing her there like that made me unable to resist.

  “I love the taste of you,” I said looking up at her bright green eyes. She reached over and grabbed a pillow from the bed and held it against herself, hiding her face from me.

  It didn’t stop me from hearing her muffled moans of pleasure.

  There was no need to rush. I took my time exploring and tasting every inch of her.

  She quivered and shook beneath my tongue and lips. I swirled my tongue around her bud, then along the length of her. Her thighs clamped against my head when I tasted the inside of her.

  Knowing what she wanted, the way she wanted it, made it so much more fun to tease her in new and different ways. I wasn’t some young kid fumbling about wondering if she liked it.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer I slipped in one, then two fingers, curling them back once they got deep enough to touch the sensitive spot with a light touch at first. Slow swirling strokes matched the pace of my tongue around her clit.

  Soft suckling accompanied harder strokes as I pressed down on her. Claire responded with a deep shuddering breath. She was close. Her hips thrust into my lips and tongue with want and I eagerly gave her what she desired.

  Her thighs shook and clamped against the side of my head.

  I felt her tremble and spasm around my fingers as I brought her up and over the edge, and on the other side of her orgasm I eased her down. Gradually slowing my tongue and fingers until she laid there bonelessly beneath me.

  I sat up, sliding her legs off and setting them down onto the bed gently. She was in no shape to move them, much less anything else.

  Claire looked at me over the top of the pillow she was crushing in her grasp but her eyes were unfocused. I licked my fingers with a soft, sensual motion then stuck them in my mouth, sucking them clean.

  That got her attention. Her eyes were bright and aware.

  Three quick motions had my pants off. My achingly hard erection pointed accusingly at her thoroughly wet and swollen pussy. I crawled atop her, my hips over hers. She made the most adorable sound in the back of her throat as I pushed the tip against her lips, parting them slowly.

  Claire threw the pillow across the room and reached out to grab me with surprising force. She pulled me down and atop her, thrusting me inside her with a savagery that was thrilling and alarming at once. I pulled away a moment, afraid the gasp she let out was one of pain.

  The look on her face told me how wrong I was.

  Good.

  I worked her top off while I started the slow, methodical rhythm of lovemaking. Long, deep strokes from tip to base as I filled her up and felt her tighten around me with need.

  A groan escaped my lips. God, I loved it when she did that. I throbbed with answering need. With her shirt off I began to slowly knead each breast in my palms, mindful of her sensitive nipples after orgasm.

  Her hips weakly thrust against mine in counterpoint, making each time we came together more explosive. “More?” I asked breathlessly.

  Claire nodded, her eyes burned with the intensity of her desire.

  With a grin, I slipped my hands around her and down her lower back until I grabbed hold of her ass with both hands. She had a moment to be surprised before she threw her head back and moaned deeply to the headboard of the bed.

  Using my grip on her firm ass I thrust and pounded against her at a frenzied, hungry pace. I needed this. I needed her. There was no other woman for me. Nobody could make me feel the way I did with Claire and I wanted so desperately for her to know how much I loved her.

  I lowered my lips to hers, trailed kisses on her face, neck, her shoulder. She clung to me like she was afraid she’d drown. I breathed in her scent, thrilling in it. I drove against her harder and harder with increasing desperation.

  My abs started to get sore and deep in my belly I felt a tightening. The growing urgency of release.

  The way Claire was panting into my ear was what pushed me over the edge. I could feel it happen. The way my balls tightened with aching need. It was like a chord from my navel to my heart was stretched taut almost to the point of breaking. My body quivered from the strain of it.

  Claire plucked it like a harp string and my whole body reverberated with the strength of it. I thrust deeper, harder inside her. My cock grew hard and hot inside. The room could have blown up around me and I still wouldn’t be able to stop.

  I came so hard I practically blacked out.

  When I came to I was lying on top of Claire, her head snuggled up in the space between my neck and shoulder. A quick look confirmed she was fast asleep, a ghost of a smile on her face.

  Arms wrapped around her, I rolled us over so we could face each other on our sides. Her thigh moved on its own over my hip and she snuggled closer.

  I felt emptied and completely relaxed, every muscle in my body loose.

  “Sweet dreams,” I whispered to her and kissed her on the top of her head. I stayed there a moment before I pulled the covers over us. The cold night was already making itself known and I wasn’t about to get up and turn the heat on higher.

  Breathing in Claire’s scent mingling with the fruity aroma of the shampoo she used I fell into a deep, all-consuming slumber.

  The next morning I awoke feeling rested and restored. Claire was nowhere to be seen. I looked around once, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Noticed the bathroom door was open. Weird.

  I figured she would be in there.

  A thread of concern running through me, I pulled on some clothes from my dresser and padded into the kitchen. As soon as I got to the living room I heard the familiar sound of sizzling bacon and the redolent scents of breakfast being cooked.

  Even from this distance, I could see she was juggling too much at once. But she was doing a fantastic job keeping up with it. It was a common mistake for beginners.

  Of course nothing cooks at the same rate so you’re dealing with crisping bacon as the sausages are starting to burn, the eggs are scalding while you’re dealing with that, and the biscuits are turning to charcoal since you forgot all about them and dealt with everything else first.

  The only solution was experience, and far be it from me to rob Claire of that. Besides, she was going at it with the same level of zeal that she took to business. If she applied herself like that much longer, she’d be able to make everything I could.

  Rather than make me uncomfortable or threatened like some guys I knew, I felt proud at the thought of it. I didn’t think she’d want to put in that much effort for as long as it’d be required. But she was clearly capable of it.

  Even if she didn’t see it.

  While she was distracted I got plates from the cupboard in the dining room, set everything out so that when she was done all she had to do was sit down. I didn’t want to distract her so I stood by the table on standby, watching in case she needed help.

  It was Claire, so naturally, she didn’t need anybody’s help.

  She turned around, let out a yelp of surprise and nearly dropped the sausage and eggs she’d labored over. I knew better than to try and catch a hot pan, though the instinct did make my hand twitch forward a fraction before I got it under control.

  It was a hard thing to do, pushing against your instinct. I’d been burned more than once after dropping an oven mitt or cloth and seeing the baking tray start to tilt grabbed it with my bare hand.


  Eventually, I wised up. I also happened to carry aloe vera gel in the kitchen, just in case.

  Plan for the worst, hope for the best.

  “You startled me,” she said managing to take control of the pan before it tipped completely. Claire walked over to the plates, unloading the contents onto each. “When did you get up?”

  I leaned against the cupboard I kept my dishes in. “Just a few minutes. You did an amazing job. Really, I can see why you got such a fancy job in New York working for billion-dollar companies. If you showed even a tenth of that hard work there, they’d be crazy not to want you.”

  As usual, she blushed but for once didn’t try to deny the compliment. I took that as a step in the right direction. All too often she tried to deflect or downplay how amazing she was.

  One way or another I was making it my mission to let her know in no uncertain terms, just how fucking awesome she was. She deserved that.

  After a delicious breakfast, I looked at the time and started to get up then forced myself to sit down. I’d gone over the opening procedure with Sam just before her shift ended.

  I usually came in around six or seven depending on how much work needed to be done beforehand. Lately, it was pushing into five but I only had so much time in a day with Claire and I wasn’t willing to lose much more.

  Technically the bakery was open from eight in the morning to eight at night, a solid twelve-hour window.

  But if I accounted for the early morning prep and emptying the register at night plus the nightly drop off at the bank, it was closer to sixteen total hours. An hour or two in the morning before opening, and another hour, hour and a half after closing.

  Normally a single person couldn’t do it all on their own. Unless you were me but I was trying not to work myself to the bone. Even though I was training Sam yesterday, the amount of work she took off of me was immense.