Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
B y the time Clementine left the shop, he’d already eaten three full donuts. Eating my feelings is my new favorite thing. When Fox showed up, eager for his sugar fix, he wasn’t impressed with the leftovers. In the days after their sleepover, Oakley had told himself to take it slow. She needed the time to get used to what they were doing, and honestly, so did he. He wanted her, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t want to force either of them to do something because they agreed on it.
They kept their texts brief and he barely flirted when he stopped by the bakery, because there were always too many people around. He wanted to hold and touch her all the time, and until that morning when she laid out the rules, he didn’t realize that she wanted the whole thing to be a secret. Well, maybe not secret , but she didn’t want everyone to know.
It should have upset him, but he got it. What they did was nobody else’s business and quite honestly, he liked having her all to himself. The rest of her rules had been fair, but confusing. The ‘no dating’ one really stumped him, because he thought that’s what they were already doing. Then again, they hadn’t really gone out all that much yet. She had made pizzas that first night and they’d gone to The Hive, but nothing beyond that. Knowing Clementine, she’d have dinner ready when he showed up that evening too. As for dating other people? Oakley had zero interest in that. Kristof had definitely asked him to make friends and meet single people, and he’d done it.
He’d met the only single person he wanted.
Once he’d finished a fourth donut Oakley washed up and went to help Carin with a full leg tattoo they’d been working on. He drifted in and out of the conversation with the client, because his mind was fixed on Clementine. He was relieved when she said that he must always kiss her, because he didn’t know if he’d survive without the taste of her mouth. Now that he knew how soft and eager she was, it would be impossible to stop.
The rest of the day went by in a bit of a daze. He had a few appointments of his own, quick and easy tattoos with minimal conversation. The minute his last client slipped him a tip and walked out the door, he was hurrying out as well. After a quick stop at Daisy’s Patch to grab her a bouquet of carnations, peonies and gerberas, he made a mental list of things they definitely needed to talk about and repeated them as he pulled into her driveway.
Flowers in one hand, he forced himself to breathe slowly and then rang the doorbell. He was prepared to see her in another devastating outfit, but instead he heard her yell, “It’s open!”. Frowning, he turned the handle and let himself inside. Locking the door behind him, Oakley toed off his sneakers and followed the scents to the kitchen.
“You can’t leave your front door unlocked, babe.”
“It was unlocked for you, babe ,” she countered, not even bothering to look at him. But that allowed Oakley to admire her. He thought he’d always been an ass guy or someone who was drawn to legs. With Clementine, he was drawn to all of her. He also liked that in this outfit—sweatshirt that slipped off her shoulders and another pair of tiny shorts—he had unfettered access to all his favorite parts of her.
“You okay?” she asked, worry in her expression at his silence. Her eyes dropped to the flowers and she smiled. “Those for me?”
“I know you said no dating, but I thought you’d like these.”
“I do, thank you. There’s a vase in the bottom cabinet.”
He filled the vase and stood beside her at the counter and attempted to arrange the flowers. She was still grooving and he hummed along to the unfamiliar music. He moved the flowers out of the way and before he even came up behind her she was speaking.
“Yes, you may touch me.”
Chuckling, he dragged his hands over her hips and fit her softness against his body. She leaned back, singing louder as her hips swayed. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? She hit the high and low notes, moved through the beats effortlessly all while putting together their dinner. He dropped his head to nuzzle into her neck and heard Clementine’s voice hitch when he made contact.
“Hi,” she mumbled.
“Hi yourself.”
“How was your day?”
He smiled at this casual and yet so domestic line of conversation. “Too long. Someone distracted me all day.”
“How dare they distract you,” she said and leaned forward, ass pressing into his crotch. He gritted his teeth, hands loose at her hips resisting the urge to yank her harder against him.
“How dare they, indeed,” he growled, fingers tightening against her sides. “How was yours?”
“Really good. Got over my cooking slump and knocked it out of the park.”
He frowned. “Cooking slump?”
“Because of you,” she said simply and stepped out of his arms.
“What did I do?”
Clementine opened the fridge and returned with a bowl of something green, fitting herself between him and the counter. He definitely liked the way this felt, having her want to be close to him.
“I’ve been distracted the past few days because of your kisses and your sleepover—” her hands moved deftly over the circular things in front of her “—and kept fucking up at work because I was consumed by you, I guess? But I got over it.”
“Did you get over me ?”
She bumped her ass against him gently. “You’re standing in my kitchen rubbing your crotch against my ass. What do you think?”
He laughed and turned her towards him. She refused to meet his eyes, so every time he tilted his head or moved to catch her gaze, she would look away. He decided to switch tactics and swooped in for kisses. She dodged those too. But the best part was that he could see how hard she was trying not to smile the whole time.
“Why are you resisting me, babycakes?”
“You are not calling me that.”
“I’m running out of names, babe,” he countered.
“My name is perfectly fine and normal, you know.”
“You can call me something cute too.”
Clementine poked him in the stomach and he chuckled as he released her. “Don’t get any funny ideas, buddy.”
“I don’t like ‘buddy’. Pick another one.”
She shook her head and turned back to the food. He stood behind her again, hands resting on the counter as she made dinner. Her shirt slid off her shoulder and he kissed the warm skin, making her sigh softly. He might have showed up with a conversation plan, but none of that mattered anymore.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Breakfast tostadas.”
“It’s dinner time, baby,” he teased, smiling when Clementine grunted.
“Breakfast for dinner is a thing you need to get on board with.”
“Anything for you.”
“You’re so annoying.”
Stepping aside when she nudged him, he stood at a safe distance and watched her instead. Clementine’s cooking process was pretty incredible, precise and clean. Her bakery kitchen had to be run in the same kind of way, because not a single thing was out of place. She seemed to do everything thoroughly, including kissing him. He wanted to taste that mouth, feel her warm tongue against his, know that her knees shook as much as his did when they were pressed up against each other like that.
She turned to him, thoughts fading away as he took in the food. “Okay, dinner is served.”
“That looks amazing.” Ten palm-sized tortillas were set on a large wooden board and each one was piled high with eggs, guacamole, beans and topped off with bacon bits and grated cheese.
“They’re kinda messy, so where do you wanna eat?” He looked around the kitchen before dropping to the floor right where he was. She arched an eyebrow and said, “Right there?”
“This is the cleanest kitchen I’ve ever been in.”
She snorted, handed him the food and sat down. They stretched their legs out and he set the board on his thighs, so both of them could reach it. She instructed him on how best to eat the tostada without dropping anything and despite that, he still spilled some of it onto his clothes.
“You’re a child,” she told him, tsking like a parent as she used her fingers to wipe off the guac and pick up the pieces of bacon he dropped. Instead of putting it on the plate, she held her hand up to his mouth. “We don’t waste even a drop in this house.”
“Yes, chef.” He hadn’t been prepared for licking fingers, but Oakley wrapped his mouth around the two food-covered digits and swept the bits in with his tongue. He sucked on her fingers for good measure and felt a small sense of victory at the way her eyes darkened.
She stared at him a long moment and cleared her throat before speaking. “What’s the weirdest tattoo you’ve done recently?”
He shifted on the floor, adjusting himself, because holy shit he was so hard. “Uh…this girl came in the other day with a self-portrait of her vagina and wanted me to tattoo that onto her arm.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not the weirdest one I’ve ever done, but it was interesting.”
“I love that level of confidence,” she said as she chewed. “I doubt I could ever do that.”
“We’ll get you there, Clem.”
“Not that I want my vagina tattooed anywhere, but sure.”
He chuckled and leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “What kind of cake did you conjure up this week?”
“My staff made one in honor of me, which the couple rejected.” She shifted so they were facing each other. “Clementine and Blood Orange.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It looks it,” she nodded. “But I brought you a slice, along with another one they didn’t like.”
“You spoil me, babycakes.”
“You won’t get a single crumb if that sticks.”
Oakley zipped his lips, even though he was dying to laugh. He ate the next tostada in silence, watching as she stuffed her face. When she was done, she got to her feet and he smiled as she puttered around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets.
She returned to sit beside him, a large plate with two thick slices of cake. His eyes almost popped out of his head, because not only were they huge, they looked really good. Then again, everything she made was really good. One, which he assumed was the Blood Orange cake, was a deep reddish-orange that looked like it might turn his insides the same shade. The second one had white frosting with a light yellow inside, clearly the tamer of the two. In any other situation, that might have worried him, but he trusted Clementine.
“What’s the other one?”
“You can taste and tell me,” she said with a smile, swapping the tostadas for the cake.
He took a spoon from her and cut into the yellow one first, since he knew that wasn’t the blood orange one. She leaned back against the cabinets as he put the spoon in his mouth. The taste was immediate, it was tangy, coconuty and something that added a little bit of sweetness to the flavor.
“Coconut, passionfruit and I want to say pineapple?”
“Impressive. Didn’t know you had such a refined palate,” she teased and he puffed out his chest proudly. “This was the most unplanned one. We intended for it to be pineapple and coconut, but realized we didn’t have enough of both for a sampler, so we tossed in some passionfruit and suddenly it enhanced the whole thing.”
Nodding, he cut into the other slice. “The sweetness is balanced really well,” he mumbled as he shoved it into his mouth. It was a good thing she told him what the flavor was, because the minute the cake hit his tongue, the citrus exploded. His eyes slipped shut and he groaned, the flavors mingling together. “That was intense, but so fucking good.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think there’s been anything you’ve made that I haven’t liked.”
“There’s time,” she joked, kissed his cheek and was on her feet again. “Eat, I’m going to clean up.”
“Clem, hey…” he got up and set the cakes aside, reaching for her elbow gently so he could pull her back to him. Her beautiful brown eyes stared up into his and he smiled. “You’re amazing, that’s all.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, hands resting on his biceps as she stretched up to kiss him softly. Before he could lean in for more, she was pulling away and out of his arms. He leaned against the counter and ate more cake, doing his best not to inhale them. The whole time, she was wiping down her counters and putting everything away.
“Maybe when you’re done, we can move to the bedroom?”
His eyes widened and nodded, forcing the cake down his throat. “Yeah.”
“How do you feel about waiting for me—” her skin turned pink as her eyes met his briefly ”—naked?”
“Yes, chef.”
He would wait for her in whatever state she wanted. Oakley finished the cake and put everything into the dishwasher. He stopped to kiss the side of Clementine’s head and with his heart pounding, he went up to her bedroom. Smiling to himself, he stripped out of his clothes, even his boxers, and tossed everything onto the chair in the corner. Then changed his mind. He tugged his underwear back on and sat at the foot of the bed. In the few minutes he’d taken to remove his clothes, his fears came flooding back and he felt breathless. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
Talk to her. Tell her what’s going on. Explain it to her.
When the music stopped, he sat up straight and adjusted his glasses, eyes fixed on the doorway. He saw lights go out before she appeared in his line of sight, her body silhouetted against the one lamp still left on. He couldn’t see her face, but could feel her eyes on his half-naked form.
“You forgot a layer,” she said and he nodded, jaw clenched so tight, he thought he might crack a tooth. She moved to sit beside him, but didn’t touch him. “What’s wrong?”
In the dimly lit room, he stared at her bare thigh. Taking in the little bumps along her skin and a small bruise above her kneecap. He knew what he wanted to say, but forcing the words out took a lot more effort. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and started to speak.
“Remember when I told you about rehab? Well…before I got clean and made an effort to change my life, there were things that happened to me that I can’t fully remember.” Not for lack of trying, either. Kristof had attempted to use hypnosis to recover the repressed memories, but Oakley’s mind had been stronger than that. “I don’t know if it happened or not, but there are vague memories of sex with faceless strangers. Sex that I did not consent to.”
He heard her suck in a sharp breath. “That’s where a lot of my trauma with sex comes from. Panic attacks before and after sex were the norm for a while and I’ve been more or less celibate for the last few years because of it.”
“I’m sorry, Oakley. I hate that that happened to you.”
Opening his eyes, he told himself that delivering this last bit needed to be done while looking at her. So when he lifted his head and met her eyes, he saw compassion reflected back at him. Not pity, or sympathy, just clear understanding and support.
“I sometimes can’t come. Especially with a partner. When I’m on my own, it’s less stressful and panicky.”
“I understand,” she said softly. “Orgasms have often eluded me too. It’s normal.”
God, this woman. “It is normal. But I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you if I can’t.”
“I know.”
He nodded slowly, hands resting on his knees as he tried to process everything that was happening between them. He knew that Clementine would be far more understanding than most people, but feeling like he wasn’t enough had made him so tense.
“Oakley.” Her whisper drew his attention. “Thank you for telling me. I can only imagine how difficult that was. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”
“I want to.” He shifted so that his body was turned to her. “For the first time in a long time, I want to. And it’s only because it’s you, Clem.”
“Are you sure?”
“We stop when we need to. If you don’t like something, you tell me and it ends. If I feel uncomfortable, I’ll tell you and we back-up.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t want us to go into this without all the information.”
A small smile graced her lips. “Then we should probably talk about tests and protection.”
“Condoms, always. My last test was before I started at the Needle, but I’m happy to get another one done.”
“Yes, please. I’ll schedule mine for early next week.”
“Okay,” he said, body buzzing at how close they were. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“Teach me to masturbate.”
“I’ll do my best. You wanna take your clothes off?”
Clementine nodded and then stood up, taking a small step away. She pulled her shirt off, dropping it to the floor before bending slightly to push off her shorts. His gaze followed her hands as she undid her bra and tossed it aside, but when she bent down again to take off her underwear, his eyes drank in her bare breasts and all of that exposed flesh. She straightened up and a strangled sound left him at the sight of the tuft of dark hair between her soft thighs.
“You are exquisite.”