Chapter 8 Delilah
EIGHT
Delilah
PRESENT DAY
Tae fumbles with the keys before eventually letting us into the building, guiding me straight to the kitchen.
The lights skitter to life above us, illuminating the small space with no windows.
Every wooden worktop is gleaming, the sparkling area filled with appliances, and hanging utensils lining the walls.
On the island, neatly packed boxes of bread and cakes from Springflour Bakery—an amazing place in Forestville that makes my favorite key lime pie—are ready for tomorrow.
There are also rows of delicious-looking cinnamon buns in containers.
“What’ll it be?” Tae gestures at the island.
I gasp. “I can’t just take whatever I want!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for whatever we eat tomorrow.
” He opens a box to reveal rows of perfectly iced red velvet cupcakes, each covered in a mountain of frosting.
Next he opens another container housing decadent-scented slices of strawberry shortcake, made with what appears to be a light sponge cake and heavy whipping cream.
In another, there’s a selection of snickerdoodles and sugar sprinkled shortbread. All of it has me instantly salivating.
“The shortbread does look pretty good.” I eye it.
“I’ll grab us each one of those, then, along with cinnamon buns.” He selects the biggest ones then plops them onto a plate. “Now what drink will be the perfect pairing to go with this?”
“Hm…” I rub my chin. “How about a chai latte? The added spice will go well with both of them.”
“Coming right up!”
Carrying the plate, I follow Tae to the front of the Tea House. It’s strange to see the place without the constant stream of customers. With the shutters down, we’re sealed away from the outside world in our own special place.
“Take a seat.” Tae leads me to a squat table in a cozy corner nook with two plush armchairs. I settle in, checking out the nearby bookcase full of exotic cookbooks that are half-hidden by a giant indoor plant scaling up the walls.
After making sure I’m comfortable, Tae goes behind the counter, ruffling around for something before returning to light the tea lights in pretty pink jars in the middle of the table.
Hanging windchimes catch the dim light, making the room resemble a magical fairy grotto.
He then returns to the drink making station, relying on only the candles and the scant amount of moonlight filtering through the shutters to see as he makes our drinks.
I lean back against the velvet cushions to watch him work, the smell of cinnamon filling the air.
“Here you go.” Tae carefully sets down our drinks, a cinnamon-sprinkled heart on top, teeming with foam.
I take a sip, the sweet liquid warming me. The spicy scent reminds me of holidays, snuggling up in winter clothes by the fire and laughing with my family. I love how tastes hold memories, how one bite can transport you back to another time. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve always loved baking.
I nibble the corner of my shortbread as Tae sits down.
It’s the perfect texture, buttery sweetness exploding across my tongue.
It could possibly do with a little lemon zest to make it feel more in keeping with the season, but despite that, it’s simply delicious.
We settle in to enjoy our drinks and sweets, talking about anything and everything.
“It wasn’t easy being half Korean where I was from,” Tae shares while regaling me with tales about his upbringing. “A small town can be pretty close-minded. It didn’t help that I used to be the skinniest and shortest guy in my class either.”
“I don’t know if I believe that.” I squint at him. He’s easily 6′, and from what I can see, he looks to be in amazing shape. He doesn’t have bulging muscles, but he’s toned with long legs and broad shoulders, like a surfer.
“I guess I was an ugly duckling.” Tae sips from his mug.
“Puberty gave me a glow-up. Being so small as a child made me accept that it’s unlikely I’d be an alpha, too.
So many guys are so obsessed with the idea of being one that they’re crushed when they learn their designation.
” He wipes some foam from his upper lip. “I’ll never understand it.”
“So you’ve always been happy to be a beta?”
“I am what I am.” Tae raises a shoulder. “My designation has never mattered to me. I’ve always just wanted to be comfortable in my own skin. Things got better when I realized that how I feel about myself is more important than how other people see me.”
I nod as he continues, sampling the cinnamon bun next. The caramelized sugar and melt-in-my-mouth texture is indescribable.
“It took me a while to get to that point. Being the only kid eating bibimbap while everyone was eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made me stick out.”
“I haven’t had a lot of Korean food,” I admit. “But I’d love to try it. I made some mean kimchi last summer.”
“Kimchi!” He touches his chest. “The key to my heart.”
“I get how you feel about standing out, though,” I say earnestly. “Thankfully, where I grew up, I didn’t have a lot of problems being black, but I know that’s rare. I’m sorry you didn’t have a similar experience. Some people are the worst.”
He flicks his wrist as if there’s no need to apologize, but I can tell there’s still some lingering wounds there, no matter how much he tries to cover it. Because of how easy he is to talk to, it’s hard to imagine the easy-going guy before me being anything but popular.
“What’s your verdict on the famous cinnamon buns?” He looks at my plate which only has crumbs on it. I’d lick it clean if it weren’t rude.
“Delicious.” I smack my lips. “Thank you. And that was the best chai I’ve ever had.”
“An extra dash of cinnamon with a tiny bit of pumpkin spice is always a hit.”
“Let me help you clean up,” I offer as he goes to take my plate, grabbing my own cup and saucer. “It’s the least I can do.”
“If you insist.”
I grin. If I’d asked to help an alpha like that, some of the alpha-holes I’ve known would have taken offense, like I was questioning their masculinity or something.
As nice as it is to be spoiled sometimes, that’s one part of the omega-alpha dynamic that I struggle with.
Many alphas don’t let their omega partners do anything for themselves.
While being waited on can have upsides, I enjoy taking care of the people I love.
We carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, where Tae fills the sink with soapy bubbles. The rich espresso and coconut notes of his scent are denser in the compact kitchen. My feet step closer to him of their own accord, my body gravitating to his comforting presence.
He scoops up a load of bubbles then covers his chin with them. “What do you think?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Does a beard suit me?”
“Hello, Santa.” I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shakes his head, sending suds flying everywhere. “So I’ve been told.”
“You look good without the beard.”
“You think I look good, huh?”
The atmosphere thickens, unsaid words hanging in the air between us, setting like fudge. My breath catches in my throat as I edge forward, wanting to breathe him in more.
“Uh…” I seem to have lost the ability to speak as Tae’s wet fingers grab my chin and tip my face up to look at him.
He leans in slowly, hesitating as if waiting for permission.
I have to levitate onto my tiptoes to meet his mouth.
Our lips brush, cautiously at first. His pillowy lips are soft and still taste faintly of cinnamon.
He applies gentle pressure, like he’s checking to make sure that I’m okay with every motion.
I respond with more firmness, letting him know this is what I want.
I don’t want him to hold back. Our kiss deepens as he pulls me closer, one hand anchoring the small of my back and the other lost in my hair.
It’s not the inferno it was when I kissed Jagger for the first time, but it’s a simmer, quickly building to a boil.
“You’re so short,” he murmurs huskily, gripping my waist and easily lifting me onto the kitchen counter so we’re face-to-face.
“I’m pretty sure this is a food hygiene issue,” I point out, the cool counter chilling my ass through my dress.
“We can st—”
I shut him up with my mouth, hooking my leg around his torso to draw him in. When warmth pools between my legs as slick wets my panties, I freeze.
“Are you okay?” Tae pulls back, oblivious to how wet he’s making me.
My jolt of involuntary panic about whether I need to reapply scent blocker instantly fades as soon as I remember he’s a beta. He probably can’t even smell me through my clothes.
“Uh-huh,” I hum, sliding my hand under his tee and grazing over his washboard abs.
He groans, capturing my bottom lip and gently sucking on it before backing up to pull his shirt over his head.
My breath catches in my throat. Under the kitchen lights, every one of his defined muscles is illuminated.
His chest is hairless, gleaming like a marble statue, but he has a line of dark hair leading down to his crotch.
Oblivious to how stunned I am by his hotness, he tugs at my knitted cardigan then hurls it across the room, landing on some pastry cutters and sending them skittering across the surface.
Usually, I’d be the first to clear up a mess, but I’m too swept up in the moment to care, running my hands over his muscular back.
While bracing one hand on the counter, he caresses my outer thigh with the other, pausing to glance at me for confirmation. I take his wrist and guide it forcefully underneath my dress, surprising myself by my assertiveness. Tae’s pupils blow, eating up his brown irises.
Fuck, I had forgotten how good it feels to have a man’s hands between my legs, my thighs already clenching in anticipation.
“I don’t usually do this on a first date.” His voice has turned into a gravelly growl as his hands move higher, stroking the delicate flesh of my upper thighs.