“I just wanted some food and a cup of tea.” It was the honest truth.
“I’ll get you a mince pie when the gingerbread’s in.” Morgan paused. “What do you say?”
Ali went to say no, but instead said, “Okay.” She walked up to the roof, and Morgan made way for her.
What was she doing? It was as if her body was acting independently of her brain.
Once Ali was settled in front of the roof, Morgan stepped up behind, her body warmth pressing ever so slightly into Ali.
Flashing red danger signs lit up all over Ali’s body, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Mainly because she liked it and she didn’t want to. She felt Morgan’s hot, sweet breath on the back of her neck, and then Morgan’s breath hitched. Was she trying to gauge Ali’s reaction?
Ali should say something, tell her to stop.
Only, she was too busy trying to regulate her breathing and her thoughts.
Moments later, Morgan wrapped her hands around Ali’s waist and shifted closer behind her.
Ali’s heartbeat thudded in her ears.
The bells jingled on her front. She bit down a smile.
“Pick up the piping bag.”
Morgan’s voice brought the mood back. It was liquid silk in her ear. Smooth, just like her baking skills. Plus, some others Ali had tried desperately hard to forget.
She gulped, then did as she was told.
“Take care when you’re working with the gingerbread. As we know, it’s fragile and easily broken.”
A little like Ali’s boundaries. She turned her head, caught Morgan’s smile, and her mind scrambled.
What the hell was she doing?
But Ali stayed static, as her mind jammed with panic. However, this was the good panic. The kind of panic she could bottle and sell all over the world.
“Remember, I’m a communications expert, so follow my lead. I know just when to press and when to stop.”
Something deep inside Ali rumbled at that. After the night they’d spent at Helen and Jamie’s house—was that only last night?—she wasn’t going to argue. With Morgan, her insides were still molten lava, however she might fight it.
Morgan’s fingers closed around Ali’s.
Ali’s mind flailed.
“Now, gently squeeze the piping bag. You won’t get this the first time, but consistent pressure and confidence are the key to good piping.”
She tried to focus on what Morgan was saying, but it wasn’t easy. When she focused on Morgan’s fingers, she remembered them inside her. How they filled her exquisitely, as if Morgan’s fingers were made just for her. How just a simple movement had set off an intoxicating shock wave of wonder and lust inside her. A feeling she could conjure up at will. As she was doing now.
Must focus on piping.
But holy hell, that was hard when her insides pulsed and her heart rocked.
Ali squeezed. Hardly anything came out.
Morgan’s fingers pressed around hers.
Ali’s insides pulsed some more. She gulped.
Another squeeze. Finally, some icing appeared on the roof. In a splodge, yes. But there was icing.
