We should start with fucking.
He looks to me and cocks a brow. "You okay?"
"We're really doing this?"
"I told you, Iris. I like making you wait."
Okay. I can live with that. Actually, it's really hot.
God, how is he so hot? The confidence in his dark eyes sets me on fire.
Need to focus on anything else. Now.
I pick up the bag of flour. "You have scissors?"
"Yeah." He turns, grabs them from a drawer, hands them to me handle first. "Do the honors."
I snip the bag open.
He grabs a measuring cup. "What the hell does it mean sift?"
It sounds familiar. Mom was never the type to make baked goods from scratch, but I went to a few slumber parties where eating raw cookie dough was the highlight of the night. "I think you scoop it with a fork."
He pulls a fork from the drawer and hands it over.
I spoon, well, fork flour into the measuring cup. It takes forever to fill it. Or maybe it feels like forever with Walker's body next to mine.
And all that warm air against my tender flesh.
He slides his hand over the sides of my hip. Over my ass. Then the other hip.
He brings his lips to my ear. "You followed orders."
"I thought it was a favor."
"Either way."
I nod. Force my gaze to the printed recipe. Sugar. I pick up the scissors and snip the bag open.
He plays with the hem of my dress. Pulls it up my thighs. Higher and higher and higher. Until it's right at the bottom of my ass.
"I… Uh…" My breath hitches in my throat. I don't want to bake a cake. I want to bend over and demand he fuck me.
He moves behind me. Pulls my ass against his crotch.
He's hard.
Fuck, I want that. I want him. I want it more than I've wanted anything in a long, long time.
"It's driving me fucking crazy too." He releases my dress and takes a half step backward.
I nod. Yes. Crazy is a good way to put it. I mean, really, we shouldn't use the word crazy casually. Mental illness is no laughing matter…
But he is driving me fucking crazy.
"You're good at this." I force my attention to the sugar as I scoop and pour it into the mixing bowl.
"Thanks."
I want to be good at it. At this master level of teasing.
I focus on our task. Pretend I'm here to bake and not to come in his bed.
"You want to do the honors?" I point to the baking soda and the teaspoon. "Since we're learning together?"
"Teamwork. I like it." He scoops the proper amount of baking soda into the mixing bowl. Then the cocoa powder.
I measure oil.
He measures vanilla.
I crack three eggs.
He adds the coffee.
"That's everything." I stir.
"We need to taste it."
Yes. I need to taste him. His lips, his neck, his chest, his cock. I need him in my mouth. I need to drive him fucking crazy too.
He reaches for the bowl. Picks up the spoon and brings it to my lips.
I stare into his eyes as I lick off the batter.
He pulls it away. Brings it to his lips. Does the same.
But he does it better. There's something fierce in his eyes. Something that promises he's going to lick me a hell of a lot more thoroughly.
He drops the spoon in the bowl.
Brings his thumb to my lip. Wipes a drop of batter from my lips and brings it to his mouth.
I… Uh…
"We should get this in the oven." So it's no longer a distraction. So there's no reason why I can't tear his clothes off. So I can give up on this whole focus on baking thing.
He nods. Opens a high cabinet and pulls a baking tray from it. "I didn't know I had this until today."
"You don't cook?"
"I do. Just not with this."
"Would you teach me?"
He chuckles. "Teach you what, sweetness?"
Sweetness. I like it. I shouldn't like it—who the hell does he think he is giving me a pet name—but I do. "Everything."
"Yeah."
I clear my throat. "I mean cooking. I never learned."
"Sure." He slides his hand over my hip. "Tonight?"
I shake my head. Not tonight. Absolutely not tonight.
His smile spreads over his cheeks as he sets the tray on the counter.
I pick up the bowl, tilt it to pour the batter into the tray.
He takes the tray and slides it into the oven.
Sets a timer for forty-five minutes.
His eyes fix on mine. "Not sure that's enough time." He brings his hands to my hips.
He lifts me into his arms like I'm weightless. I'm on the short side, but I'm definitely not weightless.
Walker carries me to the couch and lays me on my back.
I stare up at him as I sink into the leather.
He pushes my dress up my thighs. Places his body between my legs. Leans down to bring his lips to mine.
My hand goes to his hair.
I hold his head against mine.
I kiss him hard.
I want more of him. I want too much of him.
He drags his fingertips up my thigh. "I want you groaning my name when you come."
I nod. Yes. I want that too. I really, really want that.
He leans in.
This kiss is harder. Hungrier. Like he's as needy as I am.
His fingertips brush my inner thigh.
The other.
Higher.
Closer.
Almost.
There.
He brings his thumb to my clit.
Fuck, it's intense. I'm already wound tight. I'm already desperate to unravel.
I pull him closer.
Kiss him harder.
He groans against my mouth as he rubs me.
I wrap my legs around his hips.
His hand stays slow. Steady.
Fuck exercise.
This is how I want to be in my body.
His touch gets harder.
I nip at his lip. Tug at his hair.
"Fuck. Walker." I press my lips to his neck. Wrap both arms around his shoulders. I'm lying on my back, but, still, I feel like I'm about to fall over.
"Say it again," he murmurs into my neck.
"Walker."
He sucks on my tender skin.
Rubs me with his thumb.
Then he's teasing my sex with one finger.
Two.
"Fuck." I pull him closer. Shift my hips. Groan into his neck. "Deeper."
"I like you bossy, sweetness."
"Now."
"Not yet." He teases me. Again. Again.
Again.
I reach for his hair.
I dig my nails into his back, pressing his t-shirt into his skin. There's too much fabric in the way. I need his body against mine.
I need all these layers gone.
I need to be naked with someone. Physically, at least. 'Cause I'm sure as hell not about to do it emotionally.
I push his t-shirt to his shoulders.
He tosses it over his head.
I pull back enough to stare into his eyes. "Take off my dress."
He slides my dress up my thighs. "Lift your hips."
I do.
He pulls my dress over my ass, up my torso, over my head. It lands on the hardwood floor. "Take off the bra."
I reach around my back, unhook it, slide it off my shoulders.
He lets out a low, heavy groan. "Fuck. You have amazing tits." He presses his lips to mine. Soft. Then harder.