Merritt shushes her then sends me a smile. “Thank you, Linc. You didn’t have to do that.”
“My pleasure.” I arch a brow. “Ready to go?”
She nods, and I lead them through the restaurant and out the front door. After they say goodbye and exchange hugs, Charity gives me a big smile.
“Thanks again for lunch.” She turns a sly look in Merritt’s direction. “Hope the rest of your birthday is delicious. Don’t do anyone—I mean, anything—I wouldn’t do!”
Charity lets out a laugh as she walks away, and Merritt’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of crimson. “Just ignore her,” she murmurs, turning toward the corner grocery store. “I need to stop in the store real quick.”
I nod, trying not to grin as we walk into the store. “What’re you getting?” I ask.
“Ingredients. I always bake cupcakes on my birthday.”
“Sounds good. Chocolate?”
“Is that a hint?”
“Maybe?”
She laughs. “How about chocolate with mini chocolate chips?”
“Even better.”
As we walk down the baking aisle, I swipe up a package of birthday candles. Growing up without my parents around to celebrate birthdays was hard sometimes, but my Uncle George always made sure I had some kind of dessert with a candle to blow out. At the time, I was a rebellious shit who didn’t believe in making wishes. Now, I can definitely appreciate the gesture.
Back at Merritt’s apartment, she starts baking and I sit down on a stool at the island and eat my burger. It’s good, but I find myself getting hungrier as I watch her flit around the kitchen. Her grace mesmerizes me, and when she innocently licks chocolate batter off the back of her hand, my balls tighten.
Dirty thoughts fill my head, and I shift my weight on the stool, unable to get comfortable. She’s chattering away about some reality TV show where they bake, and I’m only listening with half an ear because I keep envisioning her spread out on the island, naked and open to me. I want to bury myself in her sweetness, give her a birthday gift she’s never had before and will never forget—a long, hard ride on my cock.
Stifling a groan, I watch her bend over, slide the tray into the oven then fiddle with the timer. That ass of hers is sheer perfection, and I’ve dreamt about leaving my teeth marks in it since I met her.
“Okay,” she announces, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, “first batch should be ready in about sixteen minutes or so.”
She looks utterly domestic in an apron dusted with flour, and when she starts washing the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, I get up and grab a towel.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, handing me a bowl.
“No problem.”
We work in companionable silence, but the air between us seems heavy. I can’t be the only one who feels this sexual tension. It’s dangerous as hell, but denying it would be pointless. Every time she hands me something to dry, our fingers brush, and we exchange long looks that are becoming increasingly heated. By the time the dishes are done, I’m battling a raging hard-on and I’m seconds from tossing her on top of the island.
My fraying control is about to snap when the oven’s buzzer goes off, interrupting my lusty thoughts. Merritt spins away, bends over to pull the cupcakes out, and I question my life choices, wondering what I did to find myself in this torturous position.
You’re a thief, Decker. C’mon.
After setting the cupcakes on racks to cool, she starts whipping up the frosting. It looks light and fluffy, and I want to smear it all over her naked body then lick it off.
“I’m not sure if it’s quite right yet,” she murmurs with a frown.
“Need a taste-tester?” I offer.
“Would you?” She dips a spoon into the bowl and lifts it.
Instead of taking the spoon, I wrap my hand around hers and pull her forward. Her blue eyes blaze as I raise the spoon tomy mouth and slowly lick it clean. Kind of like I licked her clean last night. But not nearly as enjoyable.
I don’t miss the way her lips part or how her chest starts rising and falling faster.
And I know I’m about to pounce. In fact, there’s nothing in this world that could hold me back.
