The seating area was where I was now, staring out at the snowy garden’s lamplight catching on the icy pond and dark shadows of trees framing the scene. I had my Kindle. I had a cupcake in a mug. I had coffee. I didn’t need people, particularly ones knocking on my door this late at night. Checking my watch, I saw it was only eight p.m. It felt like midnight, the witching hour. The time when most people were asleep, and I was on my own and not likely to have my door knocked on.
“Hey, you in there?”
Brody. He was the last person I wanted to see right now, and not just because of the kissing and the connection, but because I was in my old PJs, my hair a tousled mess. He’d take one look and run.
“I just wanted to uhmmmm… ” He paused, and I waited for him to carry on, only he didn’t, he just knocked again. He wasn’t going to leave, so I rolled off the couch and padded to the doorway, intent on looking through the spy hole and then calling for him to leave. Only I opened the door because it was rude to talk to someone through four inches of wood or whatever these doors were made of, and I caught him with his fist curled and ready to knock again.
“Hey.” He dropped his hand and smiled at me cautiously and then lowered his voice. “I didn’t want to shout this through the door. Are you okay?”
At this point, I had two options, say I was fine and tell him I’d see him the day after tomorrow. Or I could let him into my little sanctuary and make him a mug cake and a coffee.
You need to pull someone into your world. That was what my last therapist had said, and she’d been the only one that’d stuck around for more than the one appointment. Her name was Iris. She was small, elderly, and knew everything. At least, that was the impression she gave me. I kind of needed someone to tell me that they knew what to do because I certainly didn’t. Then there was the kissing, that had been the most intense kissing I’d ever done, and I’d nearly melted into his hold. He wasn’t here swooping me up and bringing roses. He simply looked bewildered and concerned all at the same time.
Was it possible he’d somehow seen the real me?
Was it okay for me to let him into my world, or would he make me pretend everything was fine?
I was staring at him, and after a few moments he nodded then smiled softly. “It’s good to see you’re okay. Night, Justin.” He was nearly at the fire exit to the stairs before I called him back.
“Do you like cupcakes in a mug? Y’know, mug cakes?” I asked the cake master who baked for major celebrity weddings and birthdays. He turned to face me. His hand on the door handle ready to go.
“Do bears shit in the woods?” he replied and let go of the handle, then he patted his belly with a rueful expression. “I like all cake.”
“Do you want to come in? I can make you one.”
He didn’t hesitate, there was no thinking time, and before I knew it, he was in my suite, and I was shutting the door behind us.
“This is cool,” he said as he peeked into the next room.
“I upgraded,” I said hurriedly, in case he thought I was getting preferential treatment. “I like the space.”
“And why wouldn’t you? This is awesome. Look at this extra shower, it’s way better than what I have.” He wandered back out of the second shower room.
“You can come over and use it whenever you want,” I blurted, and he sent me a wide smile and waggled his eyebrows.
“It’s big enough for two.”
Oh God, why do I do with that?
“It is,” I said, and he smiled again. Did he imagine me and him in there? I’ve never made love in a shower before. The physics of it, the slippery surface, the hardness on knees, the lack of space.
“So you promised me a cupcake in a mug?”
Now that I could do, so I stopped thinking about Brody and me in the shower and went over to the little kitchen and pulled out what I needed, losing myself in doing this simple thing and making him coffee at the same time.
“I have decaf,” I offered.
“No, full is fine, I can sleep wherever and whenever.” He settled on the arm of the nearest sofa. “My family call sleeping my superpower, not that I’ve been doing a lot of it the last few months, what with getting ahead of myself to do this competition.”
“You’ve made a successful business as well,” I said. “I saw you did a cake for the—”
“Don’t mention the K cake, that was a nightmare from start to finish.”
“Still, good publicity, isn’t that what it’s about?”
“Never again will I do a cake for a reality star who thinks the world owes them something just because they’re all over social media or on TV.” He winced as soon as he said that. “No offense meant.”
“None taken. I’m not as invested in my career as everyone thinks.”
Wow. Where did that one come from? I’d never said anything like that out loud before. I loved my popularity, the way I could make an ingredient sell out at a local store, the way I was collecting money hand over fist and hoarding it away. I was a success, and I loved it.
Well, kind of loved it. I love the money, that’s for sure.
“Here you go.” I handed him the cupcake in a mug. “Lemon and blueberry.”
He fell on it like a pack of ravenous wolves and only glanced up at me after his third mouthful. “Ooops. I can’t get enough of these, used to make them all the time when I was in college.” He patted his belly. “I only have to look at cake and my belly is soft, let alone taste it all the time, but… ” He put another spoonful in his mouth and closed his eyes. “Simple,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “But so good.”
I could kiss him… but then all my worries and that black cloud that was hovering all vanished at the sight of him with his eyes closed, and his lips parted in a sigh. I wanted to kiss him.
I’m going to kiss him.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his, cradling his face, tasting blueberry and lemon and the sweetness of the cake as I deepened the kiss. I heard him put down the mug on the small table by the sofa. I felt his hands on me, and then abruptly we were both on the sofa. He was lying flat and I was sprawled over him, kissing him as if I didn’t need air.
This was not going to stick at one kiss. I wanted all of him, the taste and the touch, and the kisses. Feeling his hard cock against mine, I rolled off the couch. I was frantic with need. I pulled him with me until I was on the floor and he was on top of me, and only when his heavy weight was there did I relax and slow down with the kisses. He wasn’t stopping, and I wasn’t letting him. I gripped tight as he rested his weight on one arm and pushed his other hand into my pants, circling my cock and drawing a groan from me. Our tongues tangled, sliding against each other, not in desperation but in play. I could lay here all day and just kiss him, but my cock had entirely other ideas, and when he moved his hand just so, I let out a curse as the erotic touch sent sparks up my spine, and I groaned again.
“Is this okay?”
“More. Move.”
Only then did he begin to move his hand, and I scrambled to get contact with skin, but he was still in his jeans, wearing a belt, and I couldn’t get the right angle. He kissed my chin, then scooted down my body. I missed the weight of him, attempted to pull him back, and then pushed him lower when he kissed the V of my hips and my lower belly.