“I had you fooled.” He smiles. “I won’t embarrass Misty with the thousand and one filthy things I thought that night. I’ll tell you later.”
My cheeks turn unmistakably hot. They match the rest of my body, which flashes with need.
I squirm in my chair, not daring to say a word.
Misty clears her throat, looking amused. “We can start with the lemon. I’ve got a biscotti-flavored filling I can add if you’re partial to that flavor combination…”
Over the next twenty minutes, Misty and I chat about cake flavors in between testing each delectable bite. Beside me, I’m aware of Hayden licking frosting from his lips and watching me with an unnerving stare.
“I don’t think the carrot cake is for me,” I say.
“That was marble.” Hayden’s smirk says he knows he’s rattling me.
“Oh, sorry.” I smile at Misty to cover the awkward moment.
“Not at all. It’s a lot of flavors at once. I may have saved the best for last…”
Before I can reach for the final confection, Hayden plucks it from the tray, unwraps the paper from the spongy cake, and breaks it in half. One piece he plops in his mouth with a groan. The other he holds inches from my lips. I rear back, silently insisting I can feed myself.
He cups my nape and pulls me closer. “Open up.”
Swearing I’m going to get him back for this subterfuge and forced intimacy, I accept the bite. The second the cake hits my tongue, it melts into the most delicate sweetness balanced with a teeny hint of tart from the cream cheese frosting.
I groan. “I’m in heaven. What is that?”
“Pink champagne.”
“Wow.” I’m in love.
“This is spectacular. But I know how it could taste better.” Hayden swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth and comes away with a few crumbs and a dollop of frosting. I watch, unblinking and breathless, as he sets the digit in the middle of his tongue, closes his lips around it, and groans. “Now it’s perfect.”
Heat coalesces and sharpens into an insistent ache between my legs I can’t pretend I don’t feel.
When I realize Misty is staring, I swallow and try to find two coherent words to string together. “What kind of filling do you recommend with that?”
The baker looks amused. “Probably vanilla or almond. Both are good. Almond is a bit more unexpected and less sweet.” She reaches around to find a sample, then sets two little paper cups with a tiny plastic tasting spoon in front of me, then does the same for Hayden.
As we dip the small utensils into the samples, then onto our tongues, a look tells me we’re on the same page.
“Almond, for sure,” I tell Misty.
“I agree.”
It’s startling to realize that Hayden and I just agreed on a wedding cake flavor together—after he practically ate some off my lips. It’s so intimate…so couplish. And when he drops his hand to my thigh with a smile for Misty, I’m reeling—with confusion, with desire.
Abruptly, I stand. “I think we’re good here. You know the cake size.”
“I didn’t get a good look at your Pinterest board.”
“I’ll send you a link.” I’m eager to escape…until I realize I’ll be all alone with Hayden in the small cab of his truck with nothing but a mere eighteen inches separating us.
If he touches me again, how am I going to resist him? Worse, what does my weakness bode for my future?
Suddenly, Hayden takes my hand in his and seems all too happy to hustle me outside. “Thanks for your help, Misty. We’ll look for you on Saturday at nine a.m.”
“I see a lot of brides and grooms, so I have a sense of who will make it. You two belong together. It seems like you know each other really well, but still tease and have plenty of fire. It’s a good recipe for success.” She smiles and waves. “See you this weekend.”
Is that something she says to all the couples who come through the door? I don’t think so. Misty seems professional, yes. But pretty dang honest, too.
Could Hayden and I be happily married?
I shouldn’t even consider the idea…but it’s hard not to.
The minute the door closes behind us, I’m overwhelmed by the nagging worry that I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve for him to see. And if Derek could read my thoughts now, what would he say?
“There’s no need to put on an act for Misty anymore.” I glance back to verify we’re around the corner, then tug my hand from his.
He grabs it again and pulls me closer. “Who says I’m acting?”
Before I can object, he swipes at my bottom lip with his thumb again, a slow, sensual sweep that leaves me tingling, weak-kneed, and desperate.
“Hayden…”
He doesn’t answer, just drops his stare to my lips, which automatically part to welcome him. His eyes darken. Intent stamps his face.