Chapter Fourteen
IAN
I didn’t think there was anything in the world that could dampen my excitement for today. I haven’t stopped thinking about Lila in days; her warm mouth, her soft curves, her quick wit and her kind heart and all the things that make her inherently her have been at the forefront of my brain since she snuck out of the apartment the other day, mostly because it feels surreal that I’ve gotten to experience it all. That I still can, because for whatever reason, this woman who is out of my league in a dozen different ways wants me. Has for a long time, to hear her tell it.
That’s a heady thing, for someone who’s not even sure if they’re worth wanting that much.
So needless to say, I’ve been in a great mood on the way to the studio this morning. With her flirty texts to keep me sated in the days since I’ve seen her—we’ve both been busy between my practices and her meetings—there hasn’t been a thing to bring me down.
Of course, one phone call would change that.
I’m walking into the studio when I answer the call, on purpose this time, if only because I’m curious why he would be calling, given that things are going exactly the way he wants them to, and as far as I know, there’s no reason to criticize me.
“Hello?”
“What is this shit with you and the Baker kid’s show?”
I bristle immediately. “Excuse me?”
“Once was one thing,” he says. “I get good publicity, but you don’t need to become some cheap commodity. It sends the wrong message.”
I pause my steps, my mouth parting in surprise.
Really? The wrong message?
“That’s rich,” I snort. “Coming from you.”
“Watch your fucking attitude. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”
“Is there any reason you called? Not that it’s not always a pleasure to catch up.”
“All right, smart-ass. Don’t forget that I’m still the one who calls the shots around here. Just because you used your mother to worm your way back onto the team—”
“I didn’t do shit,” I growl. “She wanted me back, and in case you forgot, she has just as much say in what happens with the team as you do.”
“She does,” he answers, his voice icy. “As long as you don’t fuck things up. You know what will happen if you decide to play hero.”
I do know, unfortunately. It’s the only reason I’m even still entertaining his bullshit.
“I got it, Dad. I’ve already agreed to the episode. I can’t back out now. You wanted me to do everything Leilani said, remember? This is what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want you to be at some damned cable show’s beck and call.”
“Well, it’s done. I’m not canceling.”
“If you want to keep pissing your career down the drain with mediocre gameplay and stupid fucking career decisions, playing the trained monkey for that dumb girl, then you—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, surprising myself. I’ve never really talked back to him, not in all the years since he’s been doing his best to control every part of my life. “Don’t talk about her. You hear me? Don’t you ever fucking talk about her.”
My father makes a disgusted sound. “Please tell me you aren’t fucking around with the Baker girl. After all the shit that went down with you and Mei, you really think it’s a good idea to have another public—”
“I said,” I manage through gritted teeth, “don’t talk about her. Remember, Dad, it’s your ass I’ve been protecting by keeping my mouth shut. Your stupid fucking legacy. If it wasn’t for Mom, I would—”
The rest of what I’d been about to say falls flat when I catch sight of soft brown waves and a smile that brings my anger from an inferno to a simmer, swallowing down the rest of my vitriol and deciding that Bradley Chase isn’t worth my time right now.
“I have to go,” I mutter into the receiver. “Don’t call me if this is all you have to say.”
I can hear him shouting even as I pull the phone away, cutting him off as I end the call before shoving the device in my pocket as Lila sidles up to me.
“Hey, Cupcake,” she says sweetly, reaching out to hook a finger in my pocket.
She gives it a sharp tug, surprising me as she presses up on her toes to leave a brief kiss at my mouth. I find myself leaning into her as if instinctually, my eyes closing of their own accord as my hands unconsciously gravitate toward her waist.
I’m a little dazed when she pulls away—too quickly for my liking—but she looks perfectly composed.
“I thought I was going to have to send out search and rescue,” she teases.
“Oh. Sorry.” I frown, trying to shove thoughts of my father away. “Phone call.”
“Everything okay? You looked sort of stressed out.”
“It’s nothing.” I wave her off. “Just my father and his same old bullshit.”
Her brow furrows. “Still being a dick?”
“On a good day.”
Her hand finds mine, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. We have an episode to do, right?”
Her lips curl. “Right. I hope you’re ready to milk this shit, because Ava is on a rampage.”
“Milk it?”
Her smile turns coy, and she tugs on my hand to drag me behind her. “Oh, you’ll see.”
“This is a joke, right?”
Lila looks absolutely delighted as she adjusts the pink chef’s hat on my head, one that pairs nicely with the new matching pink aprons they had made for us—both embroidered with our names over the chest in a complementary purple.
“I think it looks cute on you,” she says sweetly, stepping back to admire her work. “Very dignified.”
I narrow my eyes. “I look like an idiot.”
“But a very cute idiot.”
I reach above my head, shifting the hat minutely so it sits better. “You’re such a brat.”
“Mm.” She leans in, lowering her voice as she traces my name on the front of my apron with the tip of her finger. “But you like that about me.”
I shiver lightly, mindful that there is an entire crew milling about the space, and that I can’t pull her against me and kiss her senseless. Which is a real bummer, since she’s entirely too close and entirely too sweet-smelling to resist.
“It has its merits,” I murmur back.
“Maybe if you’re a good boy today, I’ll let you show me how much you like it.”
She turns away then like she didn’t just drop the sexual equivalent of the atom bomb at my feet, looking innocent as she situates her bowls and her ingredients. I sneak a peek around and make sure no one is watching us before I take a step to hover behind her, my body an inch from hers and my mouth at her ear.
“Maybe if you’re good today…I won’t have to spank the brat out of you.”
I hear her breath hitch, feel the slight tremor run through her as her throat works, and then I hear her quiet, “What if I want you to?”
I’m about three seconds from spinning her against the counter and slipping my tongue into her mouth, crew and cameras be damned, and if it weren’t for her friend Ava appearing in my peripherals, forcing me to step away from her quickly—I think I might have done just that.
“Oh, you guys look adorable,” Ava says as I back away. “The hats were a great touch, if I do say so myself.”
“I look like the pink version of the Swedish Chef,” I grouse.
“People love the Muppets,” Ava counters.
“Not me,” I say with a slight shudder. “They’re kind of creepy.”
Lila giggles beside me. “Ian was afraid of Count von Count until he was thirteen.”
“No, I wasn’t. I just don’t like puppets. Don’t like the way they move.”
“Uh-huh.” Lila smirks. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I huff out a breath. “Are we going to cook something?”
“We’re almost ready,” Ava says. “Lila is going to do her normal intro, and then she’ll introduce you again. I want the two of you to really play this up. Like, we want the audience to be totally convinced you two are boning off camera even if you aren’t.”
I feel the tips of my ears heat, and Lila chooses that moment to inspect a bowl of what looks to be salt. Ava continues to run down the flow of the episode, but I’m stuck on you two are boning, my mind traveling back to the moment where we got dangerously close. Not that I’ve really stopped thinking about that moment since it happened. If I’m not worrying about whether or not we should cross that line, I’m desperate to hurdle over it like I’m in the fucking Olympics and she’s the gold medal.
Which, to be fair, she absolutely is.
“—and if you have any mishaps with your hat, just call a time-out and we’ll cut to adjust it. I definitely want you guys to keep them on the entire time. Really gives off a good vibe, I think.”
I realize I zoned out for half of what Ava said, thinking about Lila. I hope there wasn’t anything too important in there I missed. Ava heads back offstage, and Lila nudges me with her elbow before adjusting her own hat, which actually does look adorable on her. Go figure.
“Remember not to burn anything.”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t.”
“Good boy,” she coos.
My cock twitches. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now I can’t turn it off. Is there anything Lila can do that won’t turn me on?
She winks at me, and my poor dick gives another desperate jerk.
Apparently not.
This is the second time that Lila has asked me a question while we’re shooting that I missed what she said. I don’t think anyone can actually blame me, since watching her hands work is…distracting. She’s so effortlessly confident in what she does, but just like when we were kids, she gets this little furrow between her brows when she’s concentrating on the ingredients in front of her that is just as endearing now as it had been back then.
“Start again,” someone calls from off set.
Lila grins at me. “You dozing off on me, Cupcake?”
“Just…really interested in the process.”
I can tell by the way her teeth press against her lower lip that she knows exactly why I’m not paying attention, and that it has everything to do with her sweet voice and her authoritative command of her kitchen. She’s just so in her element that it’s hard not to get a little swept away by her. I find myself slightly aroused by it but also infinitely proud of her all at once, and it’s a very confusing set of emotions to deal with at the same time.
Her smile brightens for a second, and then she collects herself, turning the mixer to a slow setting for a few seconds so she can start the segment again.
“Do you know why they call these choux pastries?”
She pronounces it like shoe, but that doesn’t really help me out any. I shake my head. “Does it have anything to do with them being footwear at some point?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes even as her lips curl. “Choux means cabbage in French.”
My nose scrunches. “And?”
“And,” she huffs with amusement, “the finished product looks a little like tiny heads of cabbage.”
I can feel myself frowning. “Well, that sounds…appetizing.”
“They’re going to be amazing,” she laughs. She gives her attention to the camera. “I promise you all, he’s going to eat at least three when we’re done.”
“We’ll see,” I answer skeptically.
I listen as she explains the next bit of her process; she transfers the dough to a piping bag after laying out a parchment paper over her baking sheet and brushing it with water, and then I feel myself leaning in as she starts to dollop perfect little three-layered blobs that look weirdly like—
“Are they supposed to look like an, ah, emoji?”
Her brow knits. “What?”
“Those.” I point to the blobs in question. “I mean…with the three layers and the little curl on top…”
Lila stares at her dollops intently for a few seconds, and then her eyes widen before she reaches to smack me in the chest. “They do not look like that emoji!”
“But you see it, right?”
“No, I absolutely don’t.”
I roll my eyes, even looking over toward the camera. “She totally does. You guys see it, right?”
The damn things look like poop emojis, and she knows it.
“You’re such a—” She presses her lips together, narrowing her eyes. “Such a bad assistant.”
“I think I’m the perfect assistant,” I say confidently. I can tell by her expression she’s not actually annoyed. “Probably the best you’ll ever have.”
The length of the moment where her eyes go round and her lips part is infinitesimal at best, and there’s no way anyone else caught it, but I fucking did. I realize now how my words could mean something entirely different, and suddenly I’m not really thinking about pastries anymore, and by the way Lila’s cheeks flush ever so slightly, I don’t think she is either.
“Well,” she says, clearing her throat. “That’s why you wet your finger a bit.” She dips her index finger in a small bowl of water, peeking over at me as she does it. “Helps smooth out the curls on top.”
I watch her finger move in slow, rhythmic circles as she smooths the top of each little mound of pastry dough, swallowing thickly as my thoughts wander against my will to that same finger circling somewhere else. Preferably on my body. Would she tease me like that?
Lila’s mouth hitches up on one side, and her eyes glimmer with mirth; she knows what she’s doing, the brat. “Better?”
“I guess so,” I manage.
“Just wait until they’re done,” she promises.
I do my best not to openly stare at her ass as she places the uncooked pastries into the oven, and then someone calls “Cut” from somewhere out of sight.
“So what now?”
She moves to the fridge. “Just need to get the pastry filling we made earlier so it can start thawing a bit. We want it to be nice and creamy when we fill the pastries.”
Now, I’ve never been turned on by the word creamy before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Looks good,” I note as she sets the bowl down on the counter.
She smirks. “It is good, but you’re a stickler for the rules, remember? We’re not supposed to be eating anything with raw eggs in it.”
“Mm. Someone did tell me to live a little.”
“They did,” she agrees. “Pretty sure that person never expected you to actually take them up on it though.”
“I don’t think I expected to take them up on it either.”
Her fingers reach out to toy with the strap of my apron that lies against my chest, and I have to suppress the urge to shiver. “They’re glad you did though. Actually, I think they would probably want you to cut loose even more.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.”
I lean in just a little, but even with the cameras off, I know I can’t kiss her here. Instead, I reach past her, dipping my finger into the bowl of cream before bringing it up to my mouth to taste.
“I did hear that being bad can be worth it.”
Her breath leaves her in an unsteady exhale, and I actually hear it catch when I reach past her again. I bring my finger to her lips this time, watching the soft curve of her mouth as I hold it close but not quite touching, lowering my voice.
“Open up,” I murmur.
She doesn’t even hesitate, letting her lips part as her eyes find mine to hold them. I’m not breathing as she licks at the very tip of my finger, feeling everything below the belt tingle with interest and then give a heavy pulse of desire as she sucks the entire digit into her mouth, making the sweetest, softest little noise. It’s in and out in mere seconds, like it never even happened, but I feel the slick heat of her mouth for much longer. I want to feel that tongue on my lips, my skin, my cock—and the set of her fucking cable show is definitely not the place for it.
A throat clears nearby, and we both jump apart, catching her friend Ava smirking at us with one brow raised. “You guys ready to finish up?”
Lila still looks a little dazed, and I brush my thumb against her lower lip, clearing away the leftover cream that clings there before bringing it to my mouth to lick it away. I know people are watching, most likely speculating—but I can’t find it in me to care right now.
“Lila?” She jolts a little at her name, like she’s coming out of a trance. “You ready?”
“Yes,” she says in a throaty voice that isn’t quite hers but threatens to make me hard all the same. She says it again, surer this time. “Yes! We’re ready. I’m ready.” She blows out a breath, eyeing me. “You ready?”
“Whenever you are,” I tell her with a grin.
I almost don’t catch her muttering, “You’d better be.”
She’s already straightening her ridiculous hat that shouldn’t be so fucking adorable and fiddling with her bowl of cream with a sweet pink tint still in her cheeks. Not that I’m judging, since I can feel the tips of my ears burning, making me yet again grateful for my longer hair. I definitely wasn’t lying though—I’m ready to finish up here.
Mainly so I can see if I can get her to make that sweet little noise again.
I really like Ava, I do—but with her loitering in the doorway of Lila’s dressing room, resulting in me having to keep a respectable distance and pretend to be very interested in Lila’s potted plant, is less than ideal.
“—and the ratings are going to be through the roof,” Ava is saying. “I can feel it.”
“If Ian in a pink chef’s hat doesn’t break the viewing threshold, then I don’t know what will,” Lila chuckles as she brushes her hair, peering in the mirror to make sure there isn’t any stray flour anywhere. “Maybe Gia will get off our backs.”
“You know she just answers to the guys upstairs,” Ava points out.
Lila rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“And how about you, stud?” Ava grins slyly. “Feeling happy about all the good publicity?”
“Well,” I snort, “I haven’t seen anyone calling me an adulterer in a while.” Lila pauses in her brushing, catching my eye in the mirror as her lips turn down in a frown. Fuck. Definitely hadn’t meant to bring that up. I avert my gaze, shrugging as if I’m not bothered. “Anyway, it’s a nice reprieve, in any case.”
“Right.” Ava nods, her eyes darting between the two of us. “Well, I’d better go make sure the camera guys are doing okay.”
I suspect she’s only leaving because of my inadvertent attempt to bring down the mood, but I can’t say I’m not grateful to finally be alone with Lila, whatever the reason. She’s still eyeing me in the mirror, and I move closer, wanting to distract her from my pathetic past, wanting to stay in the little bubble we’ve made for just a while longer.
“You know,” I tell her, toying with the knot of her apron at the back of her neck, “the apron might look ridiculous on me, but it’s very tempting when you wear it.”
Her brow arches as her lips quirk. “Is it?”
“Very,” I say, leaning in close to press my lips to her throat. “And you always smell so sweet.”
I hear her drop her brush back onto the vanity, and then her hand reaches up behind her until her fingers are teasing through my hair. “Do I?”
“Mhm. Everything about you is a temptation, Lila.” When I peek up at her reflection, I catch her lashes fluttering as I brush my lips down the column of her neck. “But this fucking apron…The things I’m thinking about you and this apron aren’t very sweet at all.”
Her smile is downright wicked. “I like that.”
“Do you?”
“Mhm.” Her eyes flutter until she meets my gaze again in the mirror. “I’ve been wanting to tempt you forever.”
“You’re definitely making up for lost time.”
“Mieux vaut tard que jamais,” she hums.
“Fuck,” I groan. How does her voice sound so much sweeter in another language? “Have I told you what that does to me?”
“I might have guessed,” she teases.
“What does it mean?”
“Better late than never,” she tells me. “More or less.” She sighs softly when she feels my smile against her throat, her voice a bit lower when she speaks again. “What are you doing after this?”
I straighten, cocking my eyebrow. “I didn’t really have plans. You?”
“I was just going home,” she says. “I live nearby.”
She says this slowly, like a suggestion, and heat courses through me. “Jack mentioned that, yeah.”
“You could walk me home,” she goes on quietly, her pretty pink tongue swiping at her lower lip, tempting me again. “If you want to.”
And it’s a suggestion that has more meaning than the obvious one, I think, one that I’ve both been obsessing about but that also leaves me slightly terrified, because what will that mean for us? What will it mean if we cross a line we can’t come back from?
But her eyes on me are full of want that I know matches mine, and her chest rises and falls at a pace that tells me she’s feeling as breathless as I am, that her heart is most likely pounding in her chest at a similar cadence to my own, and there’s only one thing I know for sure.
“Yes,” I answer quietly, coiling one silky strand of her hair around my finger and leaning in to inhale her sweet scent. “I want to.”
And maybe it’s a bad idea, maybe it’s a terrible one, but the way Lila’s mouth curves into a soft smile, looking at me like I hung the fucking moon…I find I simply don’t fucking care.