13. Cassidy
Chapter 13
Cassidy
T wo hours later and one champagne bottle down, I’d discovered the upmost betrayal. “You didn’t tell me you had vodka in the cupboard,” I challenged, mimicking that I was offended. I’d just finished my solo performance to the Spice Girls, ensuring that Eric was thoroughly entertained. I realized with satisfaction, that my over-the-top self actually tempted him to break out into a half grin—sometimes. Other times, he’d rolled his eyes at me, but I knew deep down, he was having fun too.
He went to take a mouthful of the liquid breakfast. “Ah!” I pointed at him. “The way we practiced.”
Eric grumbled his complaint but with a comical glare, he raised his pinkie ever so slightly showing his sophistication. I was certain the only reason he did it was because of how much it elicited fits of laughter from me. A guy his size posing like a lady with pinkie poised was everything I’d missed in life. I needed it printed somewhere on a shirt or it needed to be created into a meme.
“Having fun?” he challenged, pouring almost the last of the ingredients into the bowl. “Or would you like to come and join in on baking these cookies?”
I swatted him away with a smile. This had now been the third time I’d fluttered off, distracted by something else in the kitchen. “Right, sorry.” I grabbed for the sugar in the cupboard, like he’d instructed me to find a moment ago. Another wave of Spice Girls hit, the urge to use the whisk as a microphone coming in strong.
“Okay so we put all the ingredients together and scramble it right?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Scramble it?”
I bit my bottom lip, containing the laugh. That gentle smirk toyed with his lips. It was distracting and delicious all rolled in one the fact that Eric still hadn’t pulled on a shirt since waking up. And who was I to stop a good thing? He’d caught me a few times eyeing him, reminding myself of the celibacy I’d sworn.
“Read the next instruction,” he commanded. He’d given me the lead role on reading out the ingredients from his cell. Under careful instruction, by way of the step by step points Lori had sent through, we threw ingredients in and when it came to the mixing part, he handed over the reins. With absolute glee, I took another mouthful of mimosa as we scuffled around each other, cautious not to touch. On my way past, I grabbed Shadow’s face, smooshing it in my hands and rubbing furiously as I baby talked to him, and he absolutely loved it. Eric, not as much.
As I began to whisk, Eric chopped the block of dark chocolate into small pieces. We didn’t have choc chips, so we’d improvised.
I stared at the chocolatey goodness. For the most part, I had a restrictive diet and watched everything I ate. But we were making cookies after all, shouldn’t I enjoy the process and the ingredients, just to sample the product? Eric was looking at me and then the chocolate. “Would you like a piece, snowflake?”
I smirked. “Eric, you might just be a mind reader.”
“I doubt it’s mind reading when I can see you salivating for a piece.”
I grabbed a piece and plonked it in my mouth. The smooth, velvety swirl danced along my tastebuds, an odd mixture with the orange juice and champagne.
I grabbed another piece under his watchful glare. “Catch.” I said without warning, throwing the piece into the air. He caught it with his hand. I pouted and snatched the piece back. “Not like that. With your mouth.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “But why would I…”
I arched an eyebrow and crossed my hands over my chest.
“Fine,” he gritted out and looked as if he was attempting to brace himself, with knees lowered. I laughed as I threw it up. Both him and Shadow looked hopeful as they both watched it fly through the air. The chocolate piece landed on Eric’s tongue.
“Victory!” I shouted. “You’re so good at it.” I nudged him with my elbow.
“Well, I am used to putting other things in my mouth,” he growled. My lower abdominal flooded with heat, and I looked up at him, almost startled that he’d said that out loud.
He arched an eyebrow, a suave kind of smile crossing his features. “When I said I’m not into women, Cassidy, it didn’t mean that I didn’t fuck.”
I choked. “Did you just say, fucked?”
His features twisted. “Please, I’m not the innocent one here claiming celibacy.”
With mouth open, I popped my hip out. “I’ll have you know that I chose celibacy.”
“And how’s that working for you?”
“Three months strong,” I said, although my knees pinched together as I grazed another glance up and down him.
Amused he dipped his giant finger in the bowl of mixture and ever so slowly sucked, scraping with his teeth. I found it fascinating that he didn’t get any food stuck in that glorious beard. Wait, was I into full grown beards now? “That’s a shame,” he purred.
I melted, a fire blistering over my skin. The leggings and bralette were too suffocating, I needed them off.
He chuckled under my stunned expression, collecting a small amount of the batter again and plopping it on the end of my nose. “Don’t worry, snowflake, I’m not going to eat you up. It was a joke.”
I pretended to fall backwards. “And now he jokes?” All in attempt to slow my pattering heart and the roiling tension in the pit of my stomach. “Give him half a bottle of champagne and he turns into a dirty slut.”
“Did you just call me a slut?” Eric asked, leaning against the back of the island, arms folded over his chest. His muscles bulged with the movement; my gaze navigated the hair from chest and along the small line that followed below. “I’ve punished girls for calling me less.”
I poked my tongue inside my mouth, really liking this side of Eric. “Do the other girls like to be punished as well?”
A low growl escaped him as if in warning and it vibrated through me, creating an unfurling beat in my pussy. His gaze was intoxicating, consuming, and heated.
“You’re half my age,” he warned.
“I’m not. I’m sixteen years younger. And if you didn’t see me as a woman than you wouldn’t have been staring at my ass through my yoga pants all morning.” I harrumphed. And with all my strength, and libido going feral, I turned away and focused on the cookies again. “And besides I’m celibate and we’re just making cookies. Nothing to see here.”
“I never said I was interested, snowflake,” he remarked, draining his glass.
“No but your cock does,” I said with a satisfied grin and shamelessly stared at the bulge pushing against his gray sweatpants. “But in case you’re wondering, if I weren’t sworn to celibacy, I might’ve considered it,” I said, wiping the batter off my nose and popping it into my mouth, sucking on it in the same way he’d teased me. His glare was ruthless, his jaw tight. “I think it’s ready to put the chocolate in, Eric,” I said sweetly.