Icing on the Cake Page 7

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. Although he couldn’t help the small laugh that rumbled through his chest. One minute held a breathless plea and the next a sassy command. The mixture of sweet and sexy was an intoxicating combination that had his cock throbbing against the button fly of his jeans. He made quick work of his clothing, chucking them to who - the - fuck - cares - where.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of his straining erection. “Cheese and rice, I’m not sure if you’ll fit.”

  This time there was nothing small about the laugh that vibrated through him. “That might be the best dirty talk I’ve ever heard.”

  A blush crept over her cheeks. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to make her self-conscious. It was the honest to God truth. “Don’t go shy on me now, luv. I was being serious.” He glanced at his glistening erection. “I thought that would be rather obvious.”

  Her gaze flicked down and then her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Christ. If he’d been wearing pants, he would have been dangerously close to coming in them.

  With a sound that was more growl than groan, he surged forward, claiming her in a possessive kiss. His hand palmed one of her breasts, his fingers tracing the edges of the lace before yanking it down to free a rosy nipple that was just begging for his mouth. Lowering his head, he covered the taut peak with his lips, sucking hard before tugging it sharply between his teeth.

  “Oh God,” she said on a shuddering sigh. Her head fell back against the mirror and her body arched as he slid his hand between her legs to where she was slick and hot. Sinking a finger inside her, he felt her body clench. She was as ready as he was, but so fucking tight. He eased out then back in with a second finger, keeping a steady rhythm until her hips began to circle in a silent plea for more. “Please,” she whispered. In twenty-nine years he didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved to hear a single word.

  But then her head lifted and her eyes cleared. “Wait.” She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with each gasp of air. “Do you have . . .”

  Fuck. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Condoms were a rule, not an option. And one he never forgot. Ever. “Yes, yes, one second.” Thank fuck one of them had their head on straight.

  He dug through his jeans until he found the condom, then tore the foil packet with his teeth before rolling the latex down his length. When he looked up he found her watching him with a look of eager anticipation.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered. Her voice might have been quiet, but he heard her desperate need loud and clear. It was the only green light he needed.

  He stepped forward, thrusting into her on a solid stroke, then stilled. She felt so good. Too good. If he moved quickly he was going to be royally fucked.

  His sweet vixen sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re so deep.” Her green eyes met his and then she spoke the words that nearly undid him. “Make me come.”

  With that, the last vestige of his self-control snapped. He pulled out, then powered into her again.

  “Yes,” she gasped. Her voice was stronger, more demanding. “More.”

  This woman would be the death of him. But it didn’t matter. Because at the moment he’d fuck himself to death if that’s what she wanted. The mirror rattled behind them as he took her over and over. Harder, faster, deeper. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted on a moan as he fucked her like a man possessed.

  “Look at me,” he grunted between sharp thrusts. “I want to watch you come.”

  Her eyes flew open and her core tightened around him. She cried out, no longer giving two fucks about who heard her. He loved seeing her like that, lost in her orgasm, lost in him. He stayed with her, thrusting into her with slick, relentless strokes until her body began to quake. Only then did he give himself over to the sensations, driving to the hilt one last time before burying his face in her neck as he found his own release.

  They leaned against each other, all harsh breath and damp skin, until the tremors began to subside.

  “That was . . .”

  Hank straightened and brushed a stray curl off her face. “Only the beginning.”

  “It was?” There wasn’t a trace of lethargy in her voice.

  “Oh yes.” Still buried inside her, he brushed his lips softly against hers. “There are so many possibilities in this room.”

  She swallowed hard but there was an undeniable glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Is that so?”

  “Hmmm,” he hummed. “And I intend to fully explore each and every one.”

  Chapter Six

  It was the chill in the air that woke him, but it was the vacant spot next to him that, had Hank bolting upright in bed. He’d been up most of the night with his little vixen—jet lag be damned—and even when they’d finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning, he’d kept her close at his side.

  Usually he preferred to sleep alone. Not that he couldn’t spare the room. His bed back home was fit for a king. Literally. Hand carved from the wood of Viking ships, his four-post bed stood nearly ten feet tall. Not that the height posed a problem for the castle’s vaulted ceilings, but the width was another story. The epitome of American mattress luxury was something they referred to as a California King, but when you were an actual king, or would be one day, nothing was standard issue. As a result, his mattress back home had to be custom made. It was large enough to accommodate not only one guest, but two or three, something he might have known from experience, although as a gentleman would never publicly admit. Yet no matter what his evenings held, his mornings were mostly solitary, which was just the way he liked it.

  Until now.

  He hadn’t invited her to spend the night per se. It just sort of evolved as they worked their way across most every surface in the room. After a soak in the claw-foot tub they’d wrapped themselves in a towel built for two and collapsed in a tangled mess on top of the down mattress. That was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him, although he had fuzzy memories of reaching for her several times during the night, her warm, soft curves molding to his hard planes as if they were two pieces of a puzzle.

  But now she was gone and an unfamiliar emptiness beat inside his chest. While overnight guests were a rarity, waking up in a bed that wasn’t intentionally empty was unprecedented. Hank ran a hand back through his unruly hair as his sleep-deprived brain ran through the events of the last few hours. She’d enjoyed herself no doubt, something the people in the next room could likely attest to, and had seemed keen to stay, so why did she take off without so much as a simple goodbye?

  Hank looked around the room. There wasn’t a trace of her to be found. No clothes, no jewelry, not even a smudge of chocolate. It was if she had never been there. In fact, if it wasn’t for the mirror above the dresser hanging slightly askew, Hank might have wondered if the whole thing had been an alcohol-inspired hallucination. But while his sexy pastry chef might have been a dream come true, she was most certainly not a figment of his imagination.

  He reached for his phone to check the time. There were several texts from Clayton and one from his father, all of which would have to wait. At the moment all that mattered was finding his sweet vixen.

  His hand dropped to the mattress beside him. It was still warm, which meant she hadn’t been gone long. If he hurried maybe he could catch her.

  Quick as a shot, he threw back the duvet, grabbed his jeans off the floor, and yanked them up his legs. There was no time to hunt for his shoes but since his T-shirt hung conveniently from the bedside lampshade, he snagged it on the way. It was still in his hand as he swung the door open to find his sexy pastry chef in the hallway just outside his room. She looked even lovelier than he remembered. Her hair was down, cascading to her shoulders in unruly waves, and her cheeks were a rosy shade of pink, still flushed no doubt from the night before. If she was tired she hid it well, because her bright green eyes showed no trace of their late night. Her lips however were a different story—full and slightly swollen, she had the look of a woman who had
been well kissed, something he was anxious to do again. There was only one problem. At the moment his vixen was deep in conversation. With another man.

  White-hot jealousy pulsed through his veins. Who the fuck was this arsehole and why was he standing so close to her? Hank clenched his hands at his sides to keep from wrapping them around the man’s throat. “There you are, luv,” he said as his vixen glanced up. And just to make sure the bloke knew he should sod off, added a quick, “The bed was getting cold without you.”

  But then the arsehole turned around and all at once Hank knew the worst part of what had just happened wasn’t that he was acting like some sort of crazed lovesick pup, it was that he’d done it in front of his mate.

  Matthew’s mouth gaped open as his eyes shot back and forth between the two of them. “You two know each other?”

  “You know Matthew?” Hank and his vixen said at the same time.

  She laughed. “I’m his sister.”

  Sister? Fuck me, Hank thought, realizing that acing like a love-sick pup in front of his mate was now the least of his concerns. “College roommate,” he offered before poking his head through the neck of the T-shirt he’d had locked in a death grip.

  Matthew refocused his attention solely on Hank as he pulled the cotton down over his torso. His steely gaze took in every detail from his freshly fucked hair to his unbuttoned jeans and bare feet. “How do you know Cassie?” he asked through a smile that was in direct contrast to his clenched teeth.

  “Cassie? Wait, I thought your name was Sue?”

  His mysterious pastry chef’s green eyes grew wide. “You thought my name was Sue?”

  Fucking hell. It was bad enough he’d just announced that his mate’s sister had spent the night in his bed, but now he’d revealed that she’d done so without him even knowing her name. Although to be fair, he thought he did, a distinction that at the moment seemed to matter very little to Matthew.

  “At the shop last night,” Hank offered in a feeble attempt to look like less of a manwhore than he apparently was. “It was written on the apron you were wearing.” Surely he’d said her name at some point, if not in the bakery then most certainly in the heat of the moment. Why hadn’t she corrected him?

  Little Vixen.

  He’d no sooner thought the words when a sheepish grin spread across his stranger’s blushing face and all at once he realized he’d never said her actual name out loud.

  “It’s not my bakery,” she explained. “I’ve just rented it for the weekend.” Which would explain why a few wedding themed baked goods were the only items in the shop. There were no pies or Danishes, not even a few random muffins. Why hadn’t he realized there wasn’t any stock in the glass cases? Because you were too busy acting like a manwhore.

  Matthew glanced between him and Cassie so quickly Hank thought he might be having some sort of seizure. When he finally spoke actual words, they weren’t the one’s Hank had been expecting. “What were you doing at the bakery?”

  That was what he wanted to know? Why Hank had been at the bakery below the inn? Seemed as though there were a lot more pressing questions, but at least this was one he could easily answer. “I was lost.”

  “He stopped in looking for directions,” Cassie said, picking up the conversation and running with it at warp speed. “Obviously I don’t really know my way around town, but he had this crumpled map, so I figured I could take a look. You know, to try and help him out. But then we got to talking and before I knew it the last batch of cupcakes was burning—oh, but don’t worry, I made a new batch so they’re all set for the dinner tonight—and I was just cleaning up when he stopped back in to see if he could offer some assistance and even though I’d already baked and frosted the new batch Hank insisted on helping me get a jump on today’s list, you know, so I wouldn’t be behind.”

  Matthew stared at her for a moment. If he was thinking the same thing Hank was, then he was most likely wondering how she’d said all that without taking a breath. “Is that so?”

  Cassie nodded so quickly she reminded Hank of one of those little bobbly head toys people loved to put on the car dash. “I would have probably been up all night if it wasn’t for Hank.”

  Judging by the look on Matthew’s face, he was damn sure Cassie had been up all night anyways. And if his scowl was any indication, he would have much rather it had been due to baking,

  “Well, Hank,” Matthew said, putting extra emphasis on his name. “Sounds like you’re a real knight in shining armor.”

  “Oh, he absolutely is,” Cassie agreed. The glimmer in her eyes told him exactly what she was about to say next, but the train was too far down the tracks for him to stop it. “I twisted my ankle and he was such a gentleman, he insisted on carrying me up the stairs.”

  And there it was. Not the best story to tell her big brother, but at least she didn’t add “then he put me on the dresser and fucked me senseless.”

  “Carried you up to his room, eh? Wow, forget knight in shining armor. Hank, you’re a real life Prince Charming.”

  Fuck.

  The color drained from Hank’s face as he braced himself for what would come next. But whatever Matthew was about to say, he never had the chance.

  “I better get going,” Cassie said as she started to back away. “Need to put the drizzle on the strawberries. We never got to that last night . . . I mean, the chocolate hadn’t set well enough before we . . . You know what, I’m going to just stop talking now and go take care of that,” she said, putting an end to her nervous ramblings. With that she turned and dashed down the back staircase, leaving the two men alone.

  Hank opened his mouth, to say what he wasn’t exactly sure, but it didn’t matter because Matthew was already in motion. He took the front stairs two at a time, never breaking stride as he made his way across the parlor and through the double doors.

  Hank was tight on his heels as he tried his best to keep up. Matthew bounded down the porch steps without so much as a word to anyone, his head down and his pace quick. They’d gone a full block before he finally spoke.

  “Does she know?” Matthew asked as they reached the center of town. He didn’t say what, but he didn’t have to.

  Hank shook his head.

  “That’s pretty low.” Matthew bit down so hard on his molars, a vein in his temple bulged. Never a good sign. “You said you wanted to keep a low profile so you could have an average weekend, not so you could run around town lying your ass off.”

  “To be fair, I haven’t lied. Well aside from the name. But isn’t Hank sometimes a nickname for Henry? So even that’s not really a lie.”

  Matthew shot him the same look he’d given him back at uni when he’d tried to justify sneaking a peek at the final exam questions after a nooner with their professor. Henry had insisted it wasn’t cheating seeing as how she’d just left them lying about for anyone to see. Well, anyone who happened to be in her office when she’d been so detracted by amorous pursuits that she’d forgotten to put them in her briefcase. But Matthew had been equally insistent and in the end Henry had done the honorable thing and told the young professor of her accidental gaff. She’d been so appreciative of the honesty he’d shown, not to mention the three orgasms he’d given her that day, that she’d awarded him an “A” in the class anyways. Matthew had mumbled something about a golden horseshoe stuck up Henry’s ass, but in the end all had been well. No permanent harm was done and everyone left with a smile on their face. With any luck, the same fate would apply here.

  “Look,” Hank said. “I didn’t mean to deceive anyone when I came up with this whole idea. I just wanted a weekend where I could be ‘one of the guys’ as you Yanks like to say.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “I had no intentions of trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes.”

  Matthew stomped up the stairs of the gazebo, sending a flock of small birds into flight. Not that Hank could blame them. He’d fly off too if he could. Lucky bastards.

  “You said you were okay with it,” H
ank reminded him.

  Matthew spun around to face him. “When I agreed to go along with this, I had no idea you would drag my sister into the whole mess.”

  Hank held his hands up in innocence. “I swear on my grandmum’s life, I didn’t know she was your sister. It’s like she said, I was lost so I stopped at the bakery for directions, she was the only one there and when she came out of the back wearing that apron I just assumed . . .” The thought of his beautiful pastry chef wearing nothing but that red gingham apron popped unbidden into Hank’s mind and he felt his cock begin to stir. Fucking hell, he’d shagged his mate’s sister, under false pretenses no less, and even when he was supposed to be begging forgiveness all he could think about was doing it again. Disgusted with himself, he sank down onto the nearest park bench. “Christ, I’m a prick,” he admitted on a heavy exhale.

  Matthew stared him down. “Damn right you are. A fucking royal prick.”

  Hank lifted his head. “I swear I didn’t know. I would never have fu . . .”

  Matthew winced.

  “I mean I would have never made lo—”

  “Just spare me the details okay?”

  Hank nodded. After a few tense beats he added, “I really like her, mate.”

  Matthew regarded him for a moment then came to sit next to him on the bench. “You have to tell her the truth.”

  “I know,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.

  “The sooner the better. She hasn’t had the best track record with men. Seems to be some sort of homing device for lying assholes. No offense.”

  Hank looked up. “None taken.”

  “And fair warning, she might look all sweet and innocent but that sister of mine has a temper. You’ll be lucky to head back to Europe with both your balls. Well, you might still have them, but they’ll be in your carry-on bag.”

  Now it was Hank’s turn to wince. “All due respect, and at the risk of losing both my nuts, I’d like to wait until after the ceremony tomorrow.” Matthew tried to speak but Hank held up his hand. “I know it makes me a selfish bastard, but I can’t help it. I want more time with her as Hank.”