“All right, let’s bake.”
After laying out our ingredients, we begin to film.
“As you know, all good things must come to an end, and this sweet lady is on her final lesson. She has a dragon to slay in the form of a cookie contest. We’re all rooting for her, aren’t we?”
I smile. “I’m going to do my best.”
“You’ve heard it here exclusively. We’re making Royal S’mores. So good you’ll ask for ...” He turns to me.”
“More.” I smile, feeling far more comfortable in front of the camera than I used to.
“Exactly.” We fall into a steady rhythm as we prepare for the cookies.
“I’ll be taking a step back and letting the Queen gain her crown today.”
I swallow and look at the directions posted on the counter in front of me. I beat the sugar and butter together until the mixture is light and fluffy before adding the eggs one at a time. Last, I add the vanilla. I’d cursed Anders for his training, but muscle memory is taking over. Slowing down the mixer as directed, I add the flour little by little.
“The key to these cookies is preparation. We’ll be letting the dough rest in the freezer for fifteen minutes to save time. But you can keep them in your fridge from anywhere from twenty-four hours to forty-eight.”
I use the scoopers with the prepared dough and place them on the sheets, two inches apart.
“Look at her go, folks. The Queen is ascending the throne. Now what you’ll do is flatten them, add your piece of chocolate, and half a large marshmallow. Then we wrap them up tight and wait. In video time, we’ll be back in a blink.” He winks, stops the camera, and sets my BB8 timer for fifteen minutes as I put the tray in my freezer. The timer beeps, and they go into the preheated oven. In the end, I have a golden-brown, melted chocolate, gooey marshmallow concoction. We finish wrapping the video, and I exhale.
“You did that all on your own.”
I look up at him. “Yeah, I did.” I smile in wonder. “And I had a good time.”
“How do you feel?” He tucks a stay curl behind my ear.
“Like less of a walking disaster?”
He laughs. The deep boom makes my knees weaken, and I press my thighs together. “You couldn’t be that if you tried, beautiful girl.”
“Anders,” I caution him.
“You know what happens in fifteen?”
“We bake the cookies,” I whisper.
“You stop being my client.”
I swallow. “That wasn’t the problem between us, remember?”
“That was the only thing stopping me from doing what I’ve been dying to do every time I come over your house.” His sexy half-smile has me ready to climb him like a damn tree.
“What’s that?” I croak
“You sure you want to know?” He traces my lips with his thumb.
I nod.
“Remember, you asked for this.” He bends down and brushes his lips with mine.
I sigh, leaning into him. His hard body supports my abundance, giving me the sweet friction I crave. My nipples harden, and my core drips. His big hands glide down my back and move to cup my ass. He lifts me up, pressing me against the swell in his pants. I grip his hips with my thighs and rock against him. Our lips continue to duel. He sucks my bottom lip in his I shudder, digging my nails into his shoulders. Chest rumbling, he moves back, he spins us, and sets me on the counter, pulling away as I whimper in protests.
“Shhh.” He kisses my lips and down my throat to my collarbone. His tongue traces the bones, setting my skin on fire everywhere he tastes. “I’ve been dreaming of tasting your cookie.” He nips my nipple lightly through my shirt, and I arch against him. “Wondering how the sticky slick you make for me will taste.”
“Anders.” I pant.