Without another word, he presses his lips to mine in a bruising kiss while he pulls out and thrusts back in. His hips piston in and out. My fingers grip his hair and hold on as he pounds into me. With each thrust, he drives deeper and deeper. He pulls away from our kiss and drops his head to my shoulder. He brings a hand between us and circles my clit. The double stimulation drives me over the edge once again. His mouth comes back to mine and swallows my moans. His hips continue to jack hammer in and out of me. The slapping of our bodies, mixed with our moans and grunts, fills the kitchen. After a few more thrusts, his hips jerk as his hot seed spills inside of me. Eventually, his movements slow until he comes to a stop.

  “That was… fuck. Amazing.” His breathing labored as he snuggles into the crook of my neck.

  “It was.” He places a soft kiss on my collarbone and then another at the hollow of my throat. I tilt my head to give him better access. “If you keep that up, we’ll need a round two.”

  His warm breath skates across my heated skin as he laughs. “I have no issues giving you what you want.” He pulls out of me, and I can’t help the small whimper that escapes from the loss of him.

  “Looks like we have a new mess to clean up.”

  Thirteen

  Penis Cupcakes

  Van

  “Dammit.” I toss the hockey puck, also known as a cupcake, onto the worktable. “What the hell did I do wrong this time?”

  A few days after the birthday party and hot bakery sex with Hollyn, I decided to attempt this baking thing alone. Mostly, I want to do it to impress her. Show her I can actually do this.

  All morning I’ve been trying to bake cupcakes and with each and every batch something goes wrong. The first batch, I filled the liners too full and when they rose, they spilled together and formed a dick and balls. It’s pretty badass if I wanted to make a dick and balls. I save it for Hollyn, anyway. And now the new batch, they are so hard I could use them as a deadly weapon.

  I rest my palms on the table and stare at the mess in front of me. Something’s gone wrong, but what? Exhaling a sigh, I reach for the large garbage can and with a sweeping motion I dump all the bad cupcakes inside. A cupcake will not defeat me.

  Once again, I set up all my ingredients and read over the recipe one more time. I’ve read this card so many times, I’m surprised I don’t have it memorized yet. Carefully, I measure out the dry ingredients and dump them into a bowl. I do the same with all the wet ingredients and pour them into a separate bowl. Then I mix the two. Gently, I scoop the batter into the cupcake liners and place them in the pre-heated oven. I set the timer and stare through the oven window, willing the cupcakes to turn out this time.

  When the timer dings, I open the oven door. They look like cupcakes. With oven mitt covered hands, I lift the pan up to my nose and take a whiff. They smell like cupcakes. I set the pan down on the table and stare at the lightly browned cakes. I puff my chest out. I might have successfully made my first batch. Growing impatient, I pluck one from the tin. Steam rises from the still hot cupcake as I toss it back and forth in my hands, trying not to burn myself. Once it’s cool enough, I peel the wrapper down and take a big bite. As soon as the fluffy cake hits my taste buds, I chew once, twice, and wet bits of cake tumble out of my mouth as I spit it out. Why the fuck is it so salty? When I glance at the table, the teaspoon is sitting next to the sugar, and the tablespoon is next to the salt. Fuck. There’s the issue. I can’t do this. I need Hollyn.

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll until I find Hollyn’s number and hit call. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. I hang up and send her a text.

  Van

  Where are you? I need you. I may have made a penis cupcake.

  Just kidding. I did. It’s for you.

  But seriously, I need your help. Everything I’ve made has turned to shit.

  I set my phone down on the table and stare at it like I did the cupcakes, willing her to answer. When several minutes pass with no reply, I clean up my mess. I’m not attempting another batch. The cupcakes may have won this battle, but I will win the war. My phone buzzes with an incoming message.

  Hollyn

  Are you at the bakery?

  Van

  I am, but I’m done. A man can only take so much failure. What are you doing?

  Hollyn

  Oh no. You’ll have to tell me about it. I’m lying in bed.

  Van

  It’s noon and you’re still in bed?

  Hollyn

  I think a kid at the birthday party got me sick. I’ve been miserable all morning. I’ll spare you the details, but I can’t keep anything down.

  Van

  I’m coming over. Text me your address.

  Hollyn

  You don’t need to do that. I’m just going to sleep some more.

  Van

  I insist. Let me take care of you.

  For several seconds, there’s no reply. I worry I’ve come on too strong. She’s an independent woman. I doubt she wants anyone taking care of her. Finally, my phone buzzes, putting me out of my misery.

  Hollyn

  542 Balsam Way Apt B. Door code is 2253

  Van

  On my way.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into the short driveway of Hollyn’s townhome. I turn off the ignition and grab a bag from the passenger seat. When I get to the front door, I pull out my phone and punch the code she gave me into the keypad. I press the last number, and it hits me. CAKE. A smile tugs at my lips. Of course, the baker would have cake as her door code. I twist the knob and step inside. The door opens to a small entryway. A set of stairs is directly in front of me that leads to the second floor. To the left of the stairs is the open living room. Snuggled on the sofa, blanket wrapped around her, sits Hollyn.

  “Hi.” Her voice is soft.

  “Hi.” I toe off my shoes and make my way toward her. I set the bag on the coffee table before taking a seat next to her on the sofa.

  “Sorry, I look so terrible.” She smooths down her hair.

  I grip her chin and force her to meet my gaze. “You look beautiful.”

  “Even with snot dripping out of my nose and my voice sounding deep and husky?”

  “Especially with the snot. And you’ll have to talk dirty to me later with that husky voice of yours.”

  “I can’t with you.” She lets out a laugh that turns into a cough. When she’s collected herself, she points to the table. “What’s in the bag?”

  I reach for the brown bag and pull out the items. “I got you some water with electrolytes so you stay hydrated. Also, I stopped by my favorite café and got you some chicken noodle soup.” I pop off the lid. She leans in and inhales the comforting chicken broth.

  “That smells so good.”

  “Want some?” She vigorously nods her head. I pull out a plastic spoon and pass it over to her. “Crackers?”

  “Oyster crackers and soup. Where have you been all my life?” She beams up at me.

  “No worries. I’m here now.” I flash her a small smile.

  She leans back and dips her spoon into the broth, blows on it, and slurps it into her mouth. “This is so good. Where did you get it?”

  “The Waterfront Café. When I was a kid and got sick, my mom would always get me soup from there. She was an amazing baker but couldn’t cook for the life of her.”

  “I never would have guessed.” She sips more broth, her eyes close as she savors the comforting taste. “Do you miss her?” There’s a brief pause, then she shakes her head. “Sorry, that was a dumb question.”

  “No. It’s fine.” I lean back against the sofa. My gaze wanders up toward the ceiling. “I’ll always miss her. One thing she always told me was not to dwell on the past and constantly look toward the future. So I know she wouldn’t want me to be sad. That’s how she was, so I try to live my life the same way.”

  “I can see that. She always looked for the good in everything. I remember one time when a delivery came to the bakery for Valentine’s Day and we were supposed to get two cases of strawberries to make chocolate dipped strawberries, but we got raspberries instead. Without missing a beat, she immediately switched gears and made lemon raspberry cupcakes. She inspired me every day.”

  “I see a lot of her in you. You both have a similar drive. Similar passion.”

  Her eyes meet mine. “I know she didn’t want a service, but I would like to do something small at the bakery. Maybe make her favorite cupcakes and hand them out to customers. One last cupcake on Della.”

  “I think she would like that. We can do something, but after today, you’ll have to bake the cupcakes.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  I nod my head. “It was a disaster.”

  “I’m proud of you for trying.” She laces her fingers with mine. “How about we make them together. I think Della would be surprised I got her son into the kitchen.”

  “She’s in heaven tossing sprinkles into the air.” I laugh.

  “She totally is.” There’s a pause. “I cherish every moment I got to work with her. She’s an amazing woman. And she raised a pretty amazing son.” She bumps her shoulder with mine.

  I stare into her dazzling eyes. Even when she’s not one hundred percent, they still sparkle. “If you didn’t have the plague, I would kiss you right now.”

  She barks out a laugh that turns into a coughing fit. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and rub small circles along her back until she finishes.

  “By the way, I like the code for your door.” She turns toward me, eyebrows knit together. “Cake. It’s very fitting.”

  Her eyes crinkle in the corners. “It was the first thing that came to mind, so I went with it.”

  With my arm wrapped around her shoulder, I tug her close. She snuggles into my chest as she rests a hand there. I use my other hand and pull the blanket so it covers both of us. I pick up the remote and go to the home screen of the streaming app. “What are we watching? Something with guns, blood, and blowing shit up?”

  “Or there is a Magic Mike 2 we could watch. Maybe you could pick up some new moves?”

  My chest rumbles with laughter. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t complain.” She steals the remote from my hand. “How about something with Gerard Butler?”

  “Okay. I can get behind that. He’s in some pretty good action movies.”

  “Don’t get too excited. This one also has Katherine Heigl, and it’s called The Ugly Truth.” She beams up at me.

  “Sounds like a romantic comedy. But since you’re cute, I’ll watch it.” She releases a tiny squeal of delight and presses play. “But next time, it’s Gerard Butler in Law Abiding Citizen.”

  “I mean, I won’t say no to anything with Gerard Butler. He’s hot.”

  I roll my eyes as Katy Perry plays through the TV. “So, if Gerard and I were standing in a room together, who’d you pick?”

  She nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment as she contemplates her choice. “Both. I want a Van and Gerard sandwich.”

  “Oh! Is that how you like it? My dirty girl.”

  Oh shit. Did I call her my girl? I want her to be my girl. But I don’t know where her head is at. Maybe she didn’t hear me? I glance down and she’s staring up at me. Nope. She heard me. Awkward. I flash her a smile and she reciprocates with a small one of her own.

  “The movie’s starting.” She snuggles into me as we turn our attention to the movie.

  Several hours later, I stir awake. Still in the sitting position, I crack my eyelids and raise my bowed head. I lift my hand and rub the stiff muscles at the back of my neck. When I peer around the room, the tv screen is black. In fact, the entire room is dark and I’m missing the cute red-head who was cuddled up to me. The flush of a toilet draws my attention. When I listen more carefully, I hear the sounds of dry heaving. I jump to my feet and follow the sound through the living room and into the open kitchen, when I notice light shining through a partially closed door. At first, I debate if I should knock or let myself in, so I decide to do both. I tap my knuckles to the wood door before slowly pushing it open. She’s on the floor, kneeling in front of the toilet. She doesn’t acknowledge me until I crouch down beside her.

  “Sorry you have to see me like this.” Her voice echoes as she speaks into the porcelain bowl.

  “Don’t worry about that. What can I do?” I rub lazy circles over her back.

  “Make me feel better.”

  “If I could, I would swap places with you in a heartbeat. So, instead, how about I make sure you’re okay?”

  She releases a muffled groan before replying, “Okay.”

  I stand. Next to the sink is a rack with towels so I pluck a washcloth from the stack and run it under warm water. I pass it to Hollyn, who’s now resting her head on her arms that are draped across the toilet. She wipes her face and mouth before passing back the washcloth.

  “Let’s get you up and off the floor. I’ll help you to your room.” I lift her from the tile and wrap an arm around her waist. “Where’s your room?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her lips pull into a weak smile. Even when sick, she still has a sense of humor.

  “Yes. Yes, I would. But right now, my motives are for a different reason. We’ll make up for that when you haven’t been hugging the toilet.” I guide her out of the bathroom, but she stops me.

  “Wait.”

  She turns around, opens the medicine cabinet above the sink, and pulls out a bottle of mouthwash. She twists off the cap, takes a swig, and swishes the green liquid around for a few seconds before spitting it out into the sink. She places the bottle back into the cabinet.

  “I don’t want barf breath.”

  I chuckle. “That’s fair.”

  We exit the bathroom and head up the stairs to her bedroom. She pulls back the covers and crawls under. I tug the blanket over her and sit on the side of the bed. I brush a loose strand of hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear.

  “You get some rest.”

  “You’re not staying with me?” Her sad, hazel doe eyes stare back at me.

  “As much as I would love to. You need some rest.” I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  When I glance down, she nods slightly. I rise to my feet and make my way toward the door. I glance back at the bed and she’s rolling to her side, snuggling the blanket to her chest. Dammit. I don’t want to leave. I turn around, crawl onto the bed behind her, and throw my arm over her, hugging her to me.

  “Just a few minutes,” I whisper into her hair.

  Fourteen

  Watching You Sleep

  Hollyn

  The next morning, I stir awake and attempt to roll over but can’t. When I peer down, I realize why, a heavy arm drapes over my waist. I can’t fight the smile that takes over. He stayed. With careful movements so I don’t wake Van, I roll over to face him. He’s sleeping on top of the blanket and still wearing his clothes from last night. Something about that sends an eruption of butterflies through my chest.

  I study his face, his long, dark eye lashes fan down his cheeks, his messy dark hair contrasts against the white pillowcase, a light stubble of hair covers his jaw. This man has me more and more in awe of him every day. Not only for everything he’s gone through but also for how hard he’s trying with the bakery. Slowly his eyelids flutter open, and I’m met with deep, chocolate brown eyes.

  “Good morning.” My words are soft.

  “Were you watching me sleep?” His voice is gruff.

  “Maybe.” I tip up one side of my mouth. “I’m surprised you stayed.”

  “I was too comfortable to leave. Plus, I could get used to waking up like this.” He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair off my face. His warm fingertips graze across my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better. Must have been a twenty-four-hour bug or something.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. It looked a little touch and go there for a moment. I was wondering if you’d make it.”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “You hugged that toilet as if it were your best friend.”

  “You’re so mean.” I playfully shove at his hard chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Instead, he grabs my wrist and tugs me to him. The blanket folds over, creating a barrier between us as he pulls me on top of him. I’m unable to control my giggling.

  “You know you like me.”

  “Maybe. Sometimes. You’re kind of growing on me.” I shrug one shoulder.

  His eyes widen in disbelief. Then his fingers tickle my sides. I squeal out an uncontrollable giggle as I squirm on top of him.

  “You’re not playing fair!” I screech in between breaths.

  Van gives in and stops. I place my cheek on his chest while I collect my breath. Once my heart rate evens out, I prop my chin on his chest.

  “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Oh! I have to show you my penis. At the bakery.”

  I blink once. Twice. Wait, what? “You have to show me your penis at the bakery? This isn’t something we could do here?”

  “No. That came out wrong. I can explain.”

  My eyebrows raise. “Please do.”

  “Yesterday, before I came over, I was attempting to do some baking on my own. Which went terribly wrong, except for the penis cupcake.”

  I motion my hand for him to continue because that can’t be the entire story.

 

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