Chapter 8
Brock
“We can do this. No, I can’t do this!” Sela moved left and then right inside her small kitchen, unsure what to do or say. “This is crazy! Edith is normally a lovely old woman, a little raunchy, sure, but this is crazy.” She turned to me, her blue eyes wide and frantic. “This is crazy, right?”
It was a little crazy, but I wasn’t as bothered by it as Sela clearly was. “It feels like small-town shenanigans.” The old woman was clearly attempting to match us by any means necessary, and it would be annoying as hell if I wasn’t on the same page.
Sela stopped moving abruptly. She froze, her stare aimed at my chest, and I thought maybe she was offended. Her head fell forward, just brushing against me, and then her shoulders shook.
Was she crying? “Hey, it’s all right.”
She looked up, her shoulders still shaking, but I saw that it was laughter rather than tears.
Thank fucking goodness. “You’re right,” she sighed.
“It is small-town shenanigans, and I should be used to it. The matchmakers are notorious meddlers, and really, I’m just surprised that I didn’t see this coming. ”
My shoulders relaxed. “So we’re good?”
Her head shook, her blond curls brushing across her shoulders with every move. “Oh no, we’re totally screwed, which is really why I’m freaking out. I don’t want to humiliate you in front of your new town.”
Her words surprised me. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
Her brows knitted into another frown before she rolled her eyes.
“Duh. I can bake, but simple things like cookies and brownies, cakes and bars, and even a pudding in a pinch. Pie? Nowhere near my wheelhouse.” Her chest rose and fell, drawing my attention to the swell of her magnificent chest under the pale green sweater.
I placed my hands on her shoulders and slowly slid them up until her face was cradled in my hands. “We’ve got this,” I assured her with a smile that made her eyes darken with lust.
“How can you say that when I just told you that I cannot make pies? Are you going to mesmerize the crowd with those gorgeous eyes and make them think they’re eating a delicious pie?”
“Mesmerizing, huh?”
Her nostrils flared, and she let out an adorable growl. “Be serious, Brock.”
“I am.” I pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, slowly, to calm her nerves. “When I was a kid, our chef always let me help her with the desserts. She was my favorite person in the house from age eight to twelve, so I promise, we’ve got this.”
She blinked once, twice. Her brows dipped as she bit down on that plump bottom lip. “You grew up with a chef?” She shook her head and laughed. “But you seem so normal.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Normal is boring, but don’t let these good looks fool you. I am capable.”
“I have no doubt about that.” She placed her hands on my chest and slid them up and then down, letting her hands go down my stomach until her fingers were—once again—hooked inside my waistband. “This is still crazy, though, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I agreed and grabbed her wrists, slowly removing her hands. “And if you keep that up, the only thing that’ll get eaten around here is you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and licked her lips, her eyes connected with mine for several long, hot moments. “Right. Pie. Contest.” She took a step back and then another and another until about ten feet separated us. “Okay, Master, teach me your ways.”
Oh, the things I would fucking love to teach her in the bedroom. I cleared my throat and caught her smirk. “Call me ‘Master’ one more time.”
She arched a brow. “Earn it.”
My cock sprang to life at her challenge, and I set about doing just that. “The key to the perfect pie crust is cold butter,” I said before I forgot about the contest again and took her to bed until she begged me to stop.
“Cold butter seems like it would be difficult to work with.”
“Having it cold makes sure it doesn’t melt too quickly, so when it gets to the oven, the good fats keep the crust flaky and buttery.” I looked up and found her staring at me. “What?”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“This whole distance thing?”
She nodded.
“You’re right. I’m not.” I winked and enjoyed the way her cheeks turned pink. “So tell me, Sela, what’s your favorite pie?”
She thought about it as her eyes traced the bowl of apples and three different pints of fruits. “Cherry is my go-to pie because it’s like home. It’s always good. Even average cherry pie is pretty good. And blackberry is kind of exotic and different, but so good during its limited season.”
“I’m partial to peanut butter pie.”
“Rebel,” she said under her breath. She rinsed the berries and placed them in bowls before lining them up on the countertop.
“Are you paying attention to how to do this crust? I think you should bake, and I’ll eat.”
She turned to me with narrowed eyes and shook her head. “At least now I know you do have flaws.”
Shocked, my brows rose. “What are they?”
“You,” she pointed at me, “are a sexist.”
I frowned. “It’s called being considerate. You may have heard of it.”
Sela rolled her eyes. “You’re the pie expert here, so you stick to baking, and I’ll eat the pies, whether you like it or not.” She poked her finger in my chest, and I grabbed her wrist to stop her. She sucked in a breath and looked up at me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I told her, my voice a little gruffer than I liked. “You’re really fucking hot when you’re bossy.”
Her mouth opened and then shut. Twice. Her eyes darkened to near black, and then she muttered under her breath, “Screw it,” about a second before she leapt into my arms and fixed her lips to mine.
This kiss started off on ten, hot and spiraling out of control quickly.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, nestling my cock between her hot thighs, pressed up against her core.
The way she gripped my face, holding me tight like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go, was so damn hot, and I let her take the lead.
She was skittish about getting involved, but she wanted me, and that was something I could work with. She moaned into my mouth and then her fingers slid around to the back of my head, winding her fingers around my hair just hard enough to sting. “Brock,” she moaned against my lips. “We shouldn’t.”
I smiled against her mouth, chuckling because despite her words, Sela made no move to sever the kiss. “We really shouldn’t,” I agreed against her lips. “Do you want to stop?” I’d hate it, but I would stop.
“No,” she sighed. “I really, really don’t.”
That was all I needed to hear to swing us around to the deep blue tiled counter, where I sat her down before stepping between her legs.
She was hot all over and hungry for me, which was so damn hot I couldn’t think straight.
“Good. That’s real good because I don’t think I can stop.
” I tilted her chin up and slanted my mouth across hers, kissing her like this was my last kiss on earth, like this was the last woman I’d ever kiss and I had lost time to make up for.
Sela gripped my hair even tighter and pulled me closer with her legs, grinding her hips against mine before she let out a shaky breath. Still, she didn’t pull back. She nibbled my bottom lip, then licked it from one corner to the other. “Yes,” she sighed.
I was so hard I ached, and all I wanted was to take my time with Sela, to feel every shaky breath when my hand slid over her body. I wanted to lay her down and devour her. “Sela, babe.”
“I know.” She whispered the words in my ear before nipping the lobe and kissing her way down my neck before she licked a trail of heat up my throat to my chin. “God, I know.”
This woman was my total undoing. I hadn’t been this fixated on a woman since I was a horny fucker in my twenties, but there was something about Sela that went beyond her beauty and her kindness.
It went beyond this wicked chemistry that threatened to tear me into billions of pieces with no hope of being whole again. “I want you.”
She laughed. “I’m right here,” she moaned and nipped my earlobe again. “But we have a contest to win or lose.”
“Your confidence in us is really hot,” I teased and bracketed her hips with my arms. “Damn it, the butter is too warm.” It was soft beneath my palm.
“Well then, I guess we need to get it cold, which I guess means we have time?”
“I like the way you think,” I told her and grabbed the butter, tossing it back in the fridge before I stood in front of Sela, cupping her face and running my thumbs back and forth across her lips.
I watched as her head tilted back and a soft sigh escaped between her full lips.
“Sela.” I loved the way her name sounded, the way it tasted when it left my lips. I kissed her like the world was ending.