Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Lake
I think I mixed up one of the cards. That one doesn’t look like lemon, but that one does. Why didn’t they put sticker labels on the individual cake pieces instead of giving me cards, and expecting that I won’t shuffle them by accident?
There’s been a mistake. This time it’s not my fault. Not entirely.
Two of them look yellow. Did they give me two lemons? No, there aren’t two lemon cards.
I have a fifty-fifty chance of being right. This one can be lemon, and this one can be… yellow cake. What is yellow cake? Plain cake that looks yellow? Does it taste yellow? What does yellow taste like? Lemon?
The sound of the door opening is a welcome distraction, and I beam at Grady, coming through the door. He’s not working today, which means he’s in dark jeans and a soft grey sweater. The cold is starting to set in, and mornings are the worst. I didn’t even want to get out of bed.
“All tucked into school?”
Grady rolls his sleeves to his elbows. “That’s not how the saying goes.” He glances at the array I’ve spread over the table. “When did these get here?”
“I went and picked them up from Mum and Dad’s.” I was supposed to do it last night and completely spaced after everything with Riley. “Will he be alright?”
Grady cups the side of my neck and smooths a thumb across my jaw. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“Are you sure? Because after last night, I think you are.” My ass is still nice and tender from how well he read my mind. It is most nights. He knows what I like.
Grady kisses me softly, and I arch into the touch, rising up onto the tips of my toes so I can add pressure and get all of it. “If you’re talking about Riley, he’ll be fine. He’s a strong kid.”
He’s a fighter, that’s for sure. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“I don’t know,” Grady admits. “I’ve asked Quinn to get me some contacts, and I’ll see what I can find out from social services. I’ll pick him up after school, and we’ll go from there.”
“He’ll need to get his stuff from his foster home.”
“Quinn and I can do that; he’s not going back there.”
My lips twitch with amusement. “I think you like taking your badge out.” I like it too. He looks hot when he goes all “detective.”
“It comes in handy sometimes,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.
Longer this time. One that makes my toes curl and lust pool in my belly, blood rushing south.
This is so much better than going to work.
Being with Grady is even better than flying.
I never thought I’d say that about anything.
He’s my ultimate flight, and I’d give up anything to stay with him.
By the time he lets me go, my brain has officially turned itself off for the day. He’s looking at me like he’s asked me a question, but I have no idea what words are.
“Huh?”
“Do you think we have enough samples?” he asks in amusement, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Do they have anything left in the bakery?”
“The rest of the cake?” I reply, giving a lopsided grin. I assume they were all connected to a full cake at some point. It’s a popular store, I’m sure they do a lot of events. Not just weddings but all the things. I’m tempted to go back for Mum’s birthday and get something really special for her.
“Did we have to pay for these?” Grady asks, doing another sweep of all the slices and fillings. He picks up one of the cards, reads it, and then puts it down.
“I think Mum did.” I was too afraid to ask when she loaded the box into my car and told me to drink water so I don’t get a stomach ache eating it all. I could probably eat all of it, but half is for Grady, so I’m safe. Probably. Should I get a glass of water?
“I’ll talk to her about the cost.”
“I think she just really wanted to do this for us.” It’s not a quid pro quo thing, not in our family.
We do things for each other because we want to, and we don’t think about the price tag.
I mean, if Avery wanted me to buy him a new car, then yeah, we’d probably talk about it.
But Mum is so excited to be part of this wedding that she’d try to pay for the whole thing without blinking.
The least I can do is let her pay for some cake.
Grady flips the lid open for one of them—it looks like the coconut one, based on the white-flake frosting.
He picks up one of the forks I put out and carefully cuts off a piece.
With a hand on my hip, he drags me closer and brings it to my lips.
Our eyes meet as the cool metal enters my mouth.
It makes the cake taste even sweeter. That might skew my rating system.
It won’t taste as good to other people, because they don’t have a Grady.
Which sounds like a them problem. I’m not sharing mine or giving him up.
“Good?”
Swallowing, I nod. My turn. Except forks are for people who care about getting dirty.
That’s not me. I pluck a bit off with my fingers and lift it to his mouth.
His eyes darken, and he closes his lips around me, licking off the crumbs and frosting.
My groin pulses like the nerves in my fingers are a direct line to it, and I bite my lip.
Every time I think this man can’t get any hotter to me, he goes and proves me wrong.
I’ll be a hundred and on my death bed and still find him ridiculously attractive.
Anything I ever felt for anyone else pales in comparison to the way he makes my heart beat. The way he brings me to life.
Grasping my neck, he drags me in for a kiss.
The cake tastes even sweeter this way, mixed with him.
Forget smushing cake in his face, I just want to share it with him via mouth-to-mouth.
Cake CPR. That smushing tradition always seems cruel, considering how long it must take the bride—and groom, or grooms, or brides, or whatever—to get ready.
Hours of work destroyed at the same time that perfectly good cake is wasted. No, thanks.
Grady slowly kisses down my neck, nipping at my jaw and then further.
I gasp and throw my head back, pleasure racing through me like electricity.
Yeah, this is—I like this taste-testing venture.
So glad we’re doing this at home. Scandalising the bakery staff seems like a bad idea for future purchases.
Ten out of ten, would do it this way again.
Highly recommend for other couples. I bet Will would like to know about it; I’ll have to tell him when I next see him.
Grady grasps my hips and lifts me up onto the table, spreading me out over the surface.
“I think we’ve been here before,” I say cheekily. The last time we did this he used the M&Ms in my pocket in the best creative way, and I still have jerk off sessions about it.
“Do you have more M&M’S in your pocket?” Grady asks, remembering the same thing as me. His lips slide up into a sensual smirk that makes me want to take a bite out of him. He can be my personal cake. That sounds like a fantastic idea.
“Probably? Maybe.” I hope so.
“I have a better idea. Take your shirt off.”
It’s gone in a second, ripped over my head hastily and thrown—somewhere. I don’t care where. It could get eaten by the dust monsters, never to be found again, and I wouldn’t care. They can have it. I have more.
I lift myself at the same time that Grady lowers, and our lips meet in the middle.
A whine erupts from the back of my throat, and I open my mouth, pressing harder and urging more from him.
A hand rustles in my pocket, and Grady smiles against my lips when he finds what he’s looking for. Past me was so smart. Go past me.
Fingers hook in my pants and underwear, and Grady drags them down and off, leaving me naked and open for him. Just the way I like it. Clothes are so restrictive and boring.
He tears the M&Ms packet open and pops one in his mouth, the distinct crunch causing a ripple to go through me. He stretches over me and kisses me deeply, chocolate flooding my taste buds. Clinging to his shirt, I arch into him, already panting despite the fact he’s barely touched me.
Without stopping the kiss, he pushes another M&M between us, the crisp outer shell melting from our combined heat, chocolate spreading. There’s really no other way to eat these. When Grady lets go, I gasp, “They should put that on the packet.”
“What?” he asks absently, emptying the rest of them next to my head. One rolls, and he grabs it, sliding it between my lips.
“Best eating instructions: mouth-to-mouth. With a Grady of choice. Not mine, though.”
Grady glances at me with a half-curled smile. “How many Gradys do you think are out there?”
“Not nearly enough. I guess it could say ‘Grady of choice, or equivalent,’” I concede. Some people’s Grady would have a different name, I suppose. Their loss.
Grady replies with, “A good compromise,” but I know he’s not really listening. Instead, he’s looking over the cake pieces intently.
Grabbing one, he slides a finger through the frosting atop the yellow cake.
Then he rubs it across my stomach. It’s cold, and I laugh, body vibrating. “It tickles.”
He leans in slowly and cleans up the mess with his tongue, lapping up every bit of frosting.
By the time he’s done, I’m on fire, burning up from the inside.
Hands clenching around the side of the table, knuckles going white.
My dick aching and hard. Grady lifts a knee and spreads me wider, and my breath hitches in anticipation.
Grady tears off a piece of the cake with his fingers and takes a small bite. He blinks. “This is lemon.”
“What?” Craning my neck, I look at the card sitting crooked beside it. “Oh. I must have mixed them up.” My fifty-fifty chance did not go in my favour. Good thing it’s not a card game, and we’re not at a casino.