“Because you murdered those cookies.”
“Hey now, whose fault is that? You said you’d teach me, but you’ve been standing way over there.” He continues to bake undeterred, adding a cup of ginger to the mixture. An entire cup. Is he even looking at the recipe card? “I thought you were going to help me stir.” He waggles his brows.
“You don’t know how to stir?” I smirk.
“Of course I do, I’m excellent at stirring milk and butter into Mac & Cheese. But I could always go for some hands-on assistance.”
“Too bad this assistant only has one.”
He snatches my hand and tucks it into his chest. “And it’s my favorite.”
He’s being too…charming. He wasn’t supposed to be doing that. He’s breaking all the unmentioned rules of the evening.
I pull my hand away and reach into the bowl. Then I fling brown, goopy, batter all over his handsome face.
He backs up, sputtering as he goes. “What was that for?”
“The atrocious charm,” I smirk, reaching for another handful. “And for ruining the cookies.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I was trying.” He holds up his hand to block my throw. Then he dives forward, reaching for the bowl. He’s got both hands in it. Clearly unfair.
He drops what feels like buckets of thick snow on top of my head and I screech. But it’s followed by a laugh. Sugar grains fall on my tongue.
Ew. Not sugar.
“Way too much cinnamon,” I choke out as more of the substance tumbles into my mouth.
“That wouldn’t have happened if my teacher had been paying attention.”
“Maybe you’re not a very good student.”
“I can’t argue there,” his voice drops and he steps through the mess on the floor, trapping me against the counter. “But I did learn something very important tonight.” He brushes his nose along my cheek and my body turns to fire.
“What’s that?” I croak out, as his lips tickle my ear.
“Food fights are very sexy.”
I can't breathe. He’s broken through my walls, shattered them really. I couldn’t find all the pieces to fix them if I tried. I don’t think I want to.
He lifts his hand and brushes powder off my nose, my cheeks, my eyebrows. Each stroke of his thumb is gentle and thorough.
My heart is beating out of control now. Why isn’t he kissing me?
“Did you, uh, think of something that makes you happy?” The words escape like a breathless whisper.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I catch my breath. His eyes meet mine. “I did.”
He pulls his thumb away and presses his lips to my cheek, less than a centimeter from my lips.
My heart goes haywire. It's the softest, most tender touch that’s completely ruining me.
“I found my Sunny,” he whispers against my cheek. Then he pulls back, leaving me wanting more.
That awful man.
Chapter 22
Sean
