Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
A s she woke up, the first thing Clementine registered was that she wasn’t alone in bed. The arm around her waist held her against a strong body, warm breath brushing the back of her neck. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was still there. She wasn’t a cuddler and given that she hadn’t shared a bed with someone in a while, she forgot that sleeping in someone’s arms could feel good.
When they got into bed last night, they’d stayed on opposite ends. At some point of the night, their bodies had clearly gravitated towards the other. She was tightly wrapped up with him and it felt, despite the frown marring her face, incredible. She still wore her black dress, though it was bunched up around her waist at that point.
After much hesitation and mental acrobatics, she slowly turned to face Oakley as his arm tightened around her. She couldn’t help but smile as she admired the man. He was beautiful when he was awake. But asleep? He looked so young and boyish. He was on his stomach, face smooshed into the pillow, hair in disarray from all the tugging and teasing she’d done last night. Dark rings hugged the underside of his eyes too. She resisted the urge to touch him, to trace the shape of his straight nose, the perfect curve of his mouth.
When she’d suggested a no strings attached sex deal, she assumed that they’d be naked all over the place. Instead, she’d panicked and he’d been gentle and communicative. He asked what she wanted, didn’t take unless she gave and waited for her to make all the moves. She had really enjoyed him pulling her back in for a kiss that first time, but she loved that he asked before doing anything the night before. Even when he was being bossy, she felt in control of the situation. There had been minimal kissing, which was wild since she really liked kissing him.
Over the course of the evening and the way he responded to her, Clementine learned that she had some amount of power over Oakley. The little things she did got him riled up and she felt how hard she made him. She might not be experienced in sexual pleasures with men and she might never have had a real penis inside her, but she understood attraction and what the body wanted.
Their entire arrangement had changed and she hadn’t been expecting that. Strings were attached, strung all over the damn place. They were getting to know each other, and not only sexually, which took away the possibility of casual, detached sex. Not that she was complaining, because she liked that he was being gentle with her. That he wanted them to understand each other.
“Why are you watching me sleep?” he mumbled, snuggling closer.
“Because you’re pretty.”
He grunted. “Why are you awake?”
“Don’t know.”
Oakley opened his eyes slowly. “Wow,” he whispered, lips tugging into a half smile. “Best thing to wake up to.”
“Lame.”
He laughed and closed his eyes again. “Morning, Clem.”
“It could be afternoon.”
“Maybe. Glad I asked for the day off when you texted me.” She scoffed and his smile widened. “Even if nothing happened, I knew I’d need a day to recover from you.”
“That makes me sound terrible.”
“Makes you sound dangerous, actually. I was prepared to be fucked senseless. What we did last night might be a lot more powerful than anything I’ve ever done before.”
“I bet you say that to all the people you charm into bed.”
“Clem,” he grunted, turning onto his side so they were facing each other.
“Oak… ley . You need a nickname.”
“I’ll answer to anything you call me.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything, just trying to sleep.”
She tried to move away, but Oakley’s grip held firm. Even though she didn’t usually like all this touching and holding, she had to admit that she liked the way it felt with him.
“Do you regret last night?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then whispered, “Last night was perfect. You were great.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, finally dragging her finger along his jaw. “Romance novels talk a lot about how kissing and holding hands, or touching and being with someone can be quite exciting. I always thought that was stupid, because people don’t always make me feel that way.” She refused to meet his eyes, her finger following the shape of his mouth. “But last night, you made me feel comfortable and safe.”
“All I want from you is what you’re willing to give me.”
“I know,” she said, staring into his eyes. “And it’s tomorrow, so I guess we’re going to figure out what all of that means.”
She tried to wriggle away again, but he pulled her closer, lining their bodies up. “What exactly do you want from me? From this arrangement?”
The question shouldn’t have stumped her, but Clementine frowned as she tried to piece together her answer. When she’d been horny baking, she believed that sex was the only solution—orgasms, pleasure and everything that came with it. But after last night, she wanted so much more. She wanted to feel like she did when he had his mouth against her neck, the sparks running up and down her spine. She wanted to know what it felt like if that same mouth was wrapped around her breast in place of his hand. She wanted to feel all kinds of pleasure, even without everything else being involved.
She wanted Oakley, in every version she could have him.
There was a part of Clementine that was worried she might not know how to separate sexual attraction from emotional feelings. But he was there, he wanted to help her and she was going to help him too—mutual satisfaction and pleasure. It would be nothing else. Just sex, learning how to pleasure herself and someone else. Once she’d gotten everything she needed, they would walk away. If she did learn to appreciate masturbation, she’d be very prepared the next time she had a bout of horny baking.
“Clementine…”
“Hmm…what were you saying?”
He looked at her for a long moment and then said, “What do you need from me and this arrangement?”
Even though she knew what she was going to say, she hesitated. Then softly said, “Everything.”
Thirty minutes later she was flipping pancakes while coffee brewed. He’d nodded at her admission and fallen back asleep. Clementine had watched him for a few minutes before she slid out of bed. She left him one of her large T-shirts and made herself scarce.
As she cooked, she thought about everything they’d discussed. Sex was still on the table, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. Something told her that neither was Oakley. He took her panic in stride and the gentle way they communicated told her that they’d figure it out together. The strings might have gotten attached and it could imply getting to know the other person, while sex played a bigger role in their relationship.
Draw the invisible line in the sand, as it were .
With the pancakes stacked, she checked on the coffee. She could have used the French press, but that morning deserved her favorite kind. She split the coffee into two tumblers, added sugar and stirred slightly, then filled it up with milk. Smiling at the perfect color, she set the tumblers into their respective davaras and set it on the counter just as Oakley appeared, startling her.
“Shit! Oh god,” she gasped, hands flying to her chest.
“Sorry, thought I was dragging my feet loud enough.”
Shaking her head, Clementine dropped her hands and looked him over. He had on his jeans, but traded his green T-shirt for the black one she’d left out. Biting her lip, she tilted her head and didn’t bother hiding that she was checking him out. “Looks good on you,” she muttered, because it really did. The sleeves stretched around his biceps and molded to his chest. With his hair sticking up and eyes still sleepy behind his glasses, Oakley was incredibly distracting. “Really good,” Clementine added, licking her lips.
Calm the fuck down, you hussy!
At his chuckle, she turned away embarrassed. But then he was right behind her, voice deliciously rough and gravelly. “If seeing me in your clothes gets you all worked up, imagine what seeing you in nothing would do to me. Don’t even get me started on what you’re wearing right now. Jesus, Clem, the shorts don’t even cover your ass.”
A snort escaped her. “Figured if my black dress didn’t get you all hot and bothered, these might.”
“Seeing you in your pastel coats gets me hot and bothered. You don’t have to try very hard.”
She looked over her shoulder and met his steady stare. He’d hinted at things like that before, but still, hearing him and seeing the sincerity in his face made her warm all over. Oakley was standing as close as he had been the night before, except his arms weren’t caging her in. Now, that was all she wanted. There was something so powerful about the way he held himself, but not in a threatening or controlling kind of way. She’d seen different sides of him in the last twelve hours and she liked them all, but she was eager to see what he would be like slightly unglued.
“Breakfast,” she said, proud of herself for not breathing out the words, considering she could barely think straight with him so close.
He nodded, stepped around the counter to pull out the stools and sat down. She took the second stool and didn’t think twice before she served the pancakes, poured the syrup and slid the toppings over to him before fixing her own plate. It was only when the silence continued that she noticed he was watching her with a smile.
“What?”
“You made me breakfast.”
“Everyone’s gotta eat.”
He gestured to his plate. “You made me breakfast. Like served and decorated the damn thing.”
“Are you too manly to accept someone else making your plate?”
“What…no, I…” he trailed off, blushing slightly. “Nobody’s ever done that for me and I fucking loved it.”
“Good.” She turned to her plate, adding a dollop of cream before sprinkling fruits over it. She felt his eyes on her, but focused on cutting her pancakes.
“Tell me about yourself,” Oakley said.
“You first.” Clementine shook her head and shoved the food into her mouth.
“Drive a hard bargain, huh?” He smiled, eyes never leaving hers as he said, “Some would say I was a true blue Californian, surfing every chance I got. I wanted to do it professionally, got pretty far.” When he hesitated, eyes finally dropping from her face, she saw the way his shoulders tensed and jaw flexed. “I uh…I’ve been on my own since I was nineteen, got into some trouble here and there. A friend introduced me to tattooing soon after. He trained me and did all of my ink, then hired me at his tattoo shop. I’ve been traveling all over the country, trying to find a place where I belong and stumbled across your happy little town. And I never want to leave.”
She nodded, shoving more food into her mouth. With her fork, she gestured to his tattooed arm, “How many tattoos do you have and how many have you done for others?”
“Nine on me. As for how many I’ve done…close to six hundred?”
“Seriously?” That seemed like a lot. Even though she knew that tattoos and cake weren’t the same thing, she tried to imagine herself having made six hundred cakes and it made her head spin.
“Oh yeah. I haven’t designed most of them, though. Most people come in knowing exactly what they want, so we’re recreating. But I love sitting with the client and talking about their ink, getting to know their thoughts and what it means to them.”
That made her smile as she said, “That’s how I feel about wedding cakes too. Most couples want chocolate or vanilla; they don’t want to experiment. So they give the planners a list of approved flavors and I have to work with that. I love taking risks and trying new things, even in life, but a lot of people don’t like that.”
“Why wedding cakes?”
At his question, she realized nobody asked her that outside of interviews. Everyone else had been there through the journey into wedding cakes. She shrugged, licking whipped cream off her fork mindlessly. “Why not?”
His eyes narrowed as they focused on the tines of the fork slipping into her mouth and she watched his chest expand as he breathed. The minute she pulled the fork out, Oakley’s mouth was on hers. The movement startled her, but she steadied herself by grabbing his bicep and kissed him back. Her lips parted against his and he took the invitation to lick into her mouth. She moaned, her tongue darting out to stroke over his, as she dragged a hand into his hair. This time, he grunted and the kiss deepened. Heads tilted, tongues tangled, hands reached for each other as their bodies were brought closer together. She liked that instead of playing coy like he had for the last few hours, he took what he wanted, because the way he kissed and the way his tongue took charge set her on fire.
A soft whimper escaped her lips when he finally pulled away and she chased his mouth for more. His hand brushed along her throat and she blinked her eyes open as his fingers gripped her jaw. “You’re the best kind of trouble, chef.”
She grunted and turned her head, attempting to nip at his fingers. Oakley pulled his hand away, a beautiful smile painted across his lips.
“Why wedding cakes?” he asked again.
“It was never my plan, really.” She slid one of the coffees towards him and poured hers into the davara and back before taking a sip. “I was focused on the usual stuff and Frankie showed up one day, asked if I did custom cakes. I hadn’t considered it until that point, but one custom wedding cake turned into another and then before I knew it, bridal magazines across the country were interviewing me and featuring the bakery.”
“That’s pretty amazing. How many cakes have you made so far?”
Because Oakley was hesitating, still nervous about his filter coffee, she did it for him. He blushed when she nudged the tumbler back his way.
“I was thinking about that when you said you’d done six hundred tattoos. But truthfully, I don’t know. Some of them have been really simple single tier cakes. Others have been three or four, those take up a lot more time.”
Lips pursed like he was impressed, he sipped on his coffee. “Are you from Wildes?”
“Small town in Iowa. Moved to Newark for business school, visited Wildes a few times to volunteer at the shelter. Like you, I loved the town, so came back after pastry school.” Sipping on her coffee, she watched him for a minute. “You said you’ve been on your own since you were nineteen, why?”
When he hesitated, Clementine flinched and realized that this probably fell into the box of things that had happened and he didn’t want to talk about yet. She started to apologize, but Oakley shook his head and smiled.
“It’s been thirteen years, you’d think that after all that therapy, I’d be comfortable talking about it.”
“You don’t have to,” she said softly, giving him an out.
“It’s okay, you should know.” Oakley cleared his throat and shifted on the stool. “I’d been surfing my whole life and was in Hawaii for a competition. It was going to be the event that changed my career, skyrocketing me into the professional league. So obviously my family was flying out to support me. But on their way from the hotel, they had an accident and were killed on impact.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, unable to fathom what she’d do without her family.
“I spiraled after that, drugs, booze, everything you could possibly think of. I was alone and struggling, but instead of getting help, I fell into a deeper hole. Met my sponsor during one of my many rehab stints and she set me up with a therapist. They’re the reasons I survived. Kristof, my therapist, gave me the idea to adopt an animal and travel as much as I could, find my purpose. And now here I am.”
She stared at Oakley, unable to process that the happiest man she’d ever met had been through so much. Sliding off her stool, Clementine cupped his face and his sad eyes brightened.
“Here you are.”
“Right where I’m meant to be,” he added softly and her heart all but leaped from her chest into his.