15. Diaz #2
I snorted.
Matty
Fucking hell. Pastelón.
My fingers clicked across the screen even as I took the stairs two at a time.
Me
On my way, tesoro.
“You want to do what with me?”
I couldn’t help the shit-eating grin on my lips if I tried. Not when Matty was staring back at me with eyes wide as saucers, clutching Mo to his chest like she was a security blanket.
“You heard me,” I told him. “I want to bake with you.”
Matty blinked slowly, like he was waiting for the punchline. “We just spent five days baking together.”
“And yet, in those five days, I never had the opportunity to show off my top-tier zesting skills.” I reached into the tote bag full of groceries I had picked up on the way over to his house and retrieved a lemon. “No if’s, and’s, or Bundts about it.”
It only took one small curve of his lips for my heart to decide that I had made the right decision tonight. Matty wanted me here with him, and I wanted dessert, so we were going to bake a goddamn lemon Bundt cake.
“No camera, no judges.” I started unpacking the bag, setting out the ingredients one by one—flour, sugar, cornstarch, sour cream. That last one had sent me for a loop. “This time, it’s just you, me, and the little demon.”
Matty gasped.
Actually gasped.
“Excuse you.” He scooped Mo higher against his chest and took a dramatic step backward. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart.”
Mo’s tail thumped happily against his arm. Shaking my head, I reached back into the tote bag and dug around beneath the rest of the lemons.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, fishing out a small, plush donut with floppy rope legs attached to it. “Don’t worry, I brought something for your precious, little psycho, too.”
Matty’s eyes flickered down to the toy and then back up to me.
“You bought my dog a present?”
“Don’t make it weird.” I huffed, shrugging like it was nothing. “I was at the store anyway and it was just sitting there.”
“You bought my dog a present,” he repeated, his voice full of quiet reverence. I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling a little exposed under the way he was looking at me.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly. “I figured she deserved something after putting up with us the last few days.”
Something soft flickered across his face. Mo, completely oblivious to the moment, was already wiggling in his arms, trying to get closer to her new toy.
I cleared my throat and held the plush donut out toward her. “Here, you little terror. Don’t say I never got you anything.”
She launched herself forward with surprising force for a twelve-pound dog, snatching the toy out of my hand—and nearly taking off a few fingers in the process.
She was an adorable, little demon, but a demon, nonetheless.
Matty let her down, and she trotted off to the corner of the kitchen to destroy her new prize with glee.
I turned back to Matty, who was still watching me with that same curious look.
“What?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re really good with her.”
I shrugged again, trying to play it cool even as warmth spread through my chest. “She’s important to you. That makes her important to me.”
Matty’s expression softened even further. He closed the last bit of distance between us, snaked a hand around my neck, and kissed me. Not the desperate, messy kind we’d shared in the cabin when neither of us could keep our hands to ourselves.
This was something else.
His lips lingered against mine for a few seconds before he pulled back and lightly brushed his thumb along the side of my neck, skimming over my pulse point.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
The simple sincerity of it hit me harder than any filthy thing he’d ever whispered in my ear.
“For buying your dog a toy?”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “For showing up.”
“Damn, Alabama.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I’ll buy your dog a whole fucking pet store so long as you keep kissing me like that.”
I pressed my palms to his chest and ran them down the hard planes, over his worn, white tank. Did the man even own a goddamn T-shirt? The tank top was certainly less formal than his usual button-downs or team uniform, but I couldn’t shake the vision of him in a graphic tee.
Preferably mine.
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, occasionally bumping hips or stealing quick kisses when one of us reached past the other. I hadn’t been joking when I’d mentioned my zesting skills. I handled the lemons while Matty measured out the dry ingredients.
Once the batter was smooth and perfect, Matty slid the Bundt pan into the oven. I took the opportunity to hop up onto the kitchen counter, dangling my legs over the edge. When he turned back around, I spread my thighs just enough to make room.
He didn’t hesitate.
He stepped between my legs and settled his hands on my thighs, leaning in until we were nearly nose to nose. “We’ve got forty minutes,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
I swiped a finger through the mixing bowl and scooped up some leftover batter, bringing it to my lips.
“I’m open to ideas.”
The lemon flavor was bright and sweet on my tongue, but it had nothing on the look Matty was giving me.
“Fuck, that’s good,” I said.
I reached for another taste, but before I could bring my finger to my mouth, Matty caught my wrist. His grip was firm, almost possessive. When he leaned in and sucked my finger into his mouth, I nearly melted off the granite.
Talk about an electric shock to the cock.
Huh. That rhymes.
His tongue swirled around the digit. The wet heat of his mouth, the gentle suction, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time—it was pure sin. There was a good chance I would never wash this finger again. Not really, though, because gross.
I was a baseball player, not a Neanderthal.
When he finally released me with a soft, wet pop, his lips were shiny and his voice was rough.
“You’re right,” he murmured. “That’s delicious.”
I swallowed hard, pulse hammering. The air between us felt electric, thick with need. It would’ve been so easy to push him to his knees right here or bend over the counter and have him drive into me. Fuck, we could probably do both before the cake finished baking.
But I had a better idea.
“I know what we should do,” I said, voice low and teasing as I caught his chin between my fingers.
His eyes darkened with anticipation. “Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” I brushed my finger, still wet with his saliva, across his bottom lip. “I want a house tour.”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You— Huh?”
“Your house,” I clarified. “I want a tour.”
“You’ve seen it.”
“Yeah, for barbecues and game nights, but I want to see the whole thing. The furniture you’ve built, the details you’ve put in. Show off a little, tesoro.”
Matty stared at me for a beat longer, processing my request. Then he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh and dropped his forehead to my shoulder.
“Yeah, all right,” he muttered against my neck.
I grinned, sliding my hands down to squeeze his ass. “Tour first, cake second, and then we’ll see what happens after that.”
Matty shook his head, but he was smiling when he threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me down the hall.