Chapter 33 Making Love
Chapter thirty-three
Making Love
Later that week, I woke to Angel calling. I fumbled for the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, pidge. Did I wake you up?”
“Noooo.”
He chuckled. “Go back to sleep.”
“Not until you’re in bed with me.” I yawned and hugged my scented bear in his stead. “How was your day? You had to work pretty late.”
“Eh, you fell asleep early.”
“Did I?” I yawned again and checked the time. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries. I, um, I did stay a little late for training.”
“What kind of training?”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to practice my cake decorating.”
I smiled and cradled the screen against my pillow. “Do you do that normally? I thought you served the cakes, not made them.”
“Maybe I wanted to impress you with my skills,” he said.
“Mm, you have so many already.”
“Oh yeah? Can I demonstrate a few when I get home?” he teased.
I could barely open my eyes, let alone manage a happy ending.
“Can we rain check until morning?” I asked. “Or I can lend you a hand.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I get to hold you,” he said.
“Aw. You’re sweet.”
“And you’re sleepy.”
I giggled and chatted with him somewhat coherently until he finally got home and crawled into bed with me. That was the best. He smelled like sugar and vanilla and his natural musk.
“I love you,” I murmured into his neck, and he kissed me senseless.
It was his way of saying it. Stamping it on my skin. Our warmth always led to the most comforting dreams.
The next morning, I went to the kitchen, determined to make him breakfast. A big, white cake box was in the fridge.
I gasped and pulled at the string bow keeping the lid on it. This must’ve been what Angel was working on last night.
“Wait! Don’t open that.” He rushed into the kitchen and blocked me from the fridge. “We can’t have cake for breakfast.”
“Who says?”
“Your personal doctor. And boyfriend.”
“If you put me on a diet, I might have to start eating apples to keep you away,” I joked.
“Your diet’s fine. I just want to save it for tonight after class. Can you keep your hands off the box until then?”
“Yes.” I nudged him aside with my hip. “For now, I’ll make us some omelets.” I giggled and shook my head as I got everything ready. “Maybe I manifested that cake.”
He blushed and rubbed his arrow piercing. “What do you mean?”
“My sister almost got married last night.”
“The baby daddy showed up?”
“No. Victor propositioned Kat. It was this whole thing, and I said you could bring the cake. Now, here it is.”
“They'll get their own cake. This one’s for us,” he said, hugging me from behind.
We enjoyed an easy morning. By the time he had to go, I was almost anxious for him to get there on time.
“Be good so we can have cake later.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes and gave him a kiss. When was I not good?
He went off to class. To a lab. To find out what was happening in other people’s bodies and take care of it.
Much like I could take care of myself.
I took a deep breath and checked my emails. Scrolling past my recent correspondence with a psychiatrist and a few medical program heads, I found an email from a delivery service.
Subject: Congratulations!
I squealed and shook my phone. That was a good sign. They wanted to hire me. All I had to do now was pass a drug test. At the hospital, if I preferred that.
My stomach twisted at the idea of running into another former classmate. But that was the thing about hospitals: that was also where miracles happened.
As I put on my coat, I located a business card a nurse practitioner had given me during Jen’s delivery.
Shadowing someone at the hospital didn’t mean I had to take classes again. I’d be exploring my options. That was exactly what I was supposed to do during unemployment or even this freelancing gig. Plus, I could take that drug test.
After a quick call, I drove down to meet with a few different professionals. I trembled at first, but with each handshake and smile that met me, I grew more confident. They were all nice. Informative. No one tried to steer me in any one direction.
I met with a different guidance counselor than the one from my old program, though I did strut past her desk with my informative pamphlets.
This new counselor asked the right questions and answered mine without judgment. We cross-referenced what credits could transfer.
Finally, she readied my enrollment submission. “Are you sure you’re ready to try again?” she asked.
In my heart, I knew the answer. “Yes.”
“Then welcome to the program.” She smiled.
I grinned widely for my new student ID. This was it. The next step.
And I wanted to share it with Angel.
I texted him: Are you still in class?
I wouldn’t want him to worry.
Typing indicators danced to life as I raced to the sector where he should be.
I felt like I could fly. Or do a twelve hour shift.
The door flung open, and my Angel was among the first students to stride out, his thumb already pressed to his phone screen.
His custom ringtone blared from my phone, and he stopped, turning to the noise.
“Tori?” He flashed me a bewildered smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I go here,” I said, showing him my new ID.
His raised his brows. “You’re back in school?”
“Yep. A whole new program with a whole lot of transferred credits. So, if you ever need a lunch buddy…”
He laughed and scooped me into a crushing hug.
The world spun by, a blur within his warm embrace.
“We are definitely celebrating with that cake tonight,” he said.
I kicked with excitement and peppered his face in kisses.
A few students did a double-take. Old friends.
“Hey, Tori. How’ve you been?” they asked.
“Good,” I answered, landing on my feet.
It was true, now. I was good. And I could do better than I gave myself credit for, especially with change.
Angel beamed at me, and excitement fluttered through my veins. He believed in me. He always had.
When we got home, he insisted on making dinner and showing me the cake afterward.
“Close your eyes,” he insisted as he set the box on the counter.
“I’m sure the decorations aren’t that bad,” I told him.
“Tori.”
“Fine.” I covered my eyes with my hand so he knew I wouldn’t peek. “Tell me when it’s ready.”
The aroma of vanilla and sugar frosting teased my lungs, and the click of a lighter made me giggle. This wasn’t a birthday party. Had he still gotten candles?
“Okay. You can look,” he said softly, guiding my hand away from my face.
My eyelashes fluttered open, and there, in the glow of standalone candles on the dinner table, was the most beautiful cake I’d ever seen. Not just because of the intricate frosting flowers and the painstakingly cursive lettering.
Because of what it said, what he read aloud to me: “I love you, Tori.”
Tears lined my lashes, blurring every beautiful detail. I covered my mouth to muffle my wet laugh of relief.
“I love you,” he continued, spreading my fingers over his heart.
“I loved you a little in class, and it only grew the more I got to know you. It’s overwhelming and healing and beyond anything I could’ve dreamed.
You are love to me. You’re brave, caring, and sweet.
I’ll fight for our future alongside you, knowing you believe in the best version of me—and I’ll do my best to make you the happiest version of you. ”
“Oh, Angel. I love you too.” I launched into his arms as my tears fell loose. His embrace calmed the roar of adrenaline in my heart. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me, to thread it through our very beings.
Our kisses deepened from pecks of appreciation to lingering tastes of desire. He rubbed the small of my back, and as I ground myself on his lap, his fingertips began seeking skin.
“Are you sure you want this tonight?” he whispered, his forehead pressed to mine.
“I want you. All of you. And cake after,” I teased, glancing at his masterpiece.
He chuckled and hoisted me up with him as he stood.
I squealed, hugging him tighter when he carried me to the bedroom.
This was even hotter than I’d imagined. He swept me away like I weighed nothing, but his grip was secure enough to make me feel like the most important thing he’d ever held.
We fell onto the bed together in a shuffle of clothes and kisses.
As he dragged my cute, relatively new underwear down my hips, I couldn’t help but indulge a bit of nostalgia. “I’m so glad you walked into the Closette,” I said.
“And I’m glad you craved something sweet that day—and that that something could eventually be me.” He smirked, pressing those naughty lips and hands all over my skin until I was writhing and ready.
His breathing was shaky as he put on protection and aligned our bodies. Maybe he was holding back. Or maybe he was nervous, like I used to be. I cupped his cheek and tilted his face toward mine.
“Hey. Look at me.” I needed to know how he was doing.
His gaze darkened with worry. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, you are pretty big,” I admitted.
He chuckled, and our postures relaxed.
I caressed his face. “After a little bit, our bodies will adjust, and we can make each other feel good again, right?”
He kissed me. “I’ll make you feel so good, Tori.”
I flushed, gasping as he slid into me. My nails bit his shoulder.
It was a strange, overwhelming tension, a pinch, that quickly rushed into euphoric relief.
“Angel,” I moaned. He was inside me. Yet, somehow, not close enough.
“You’re so good.” He pressed soft kisses into my face and neck. “You feel good. I-I’ll try not to move until you do.”
I couldn’t really think. But my body knew what to do. I unlocked my hips and tentatively rocked them against his.
He groaned and gripped my thigh. “That’s it. Show me what you want.”
Love. Desire. Rhythm.
“You…” I rested my palm over his racing heart. “I want you.”
“Then you’ll have me. You’ll always have me, Tori.”
I embraced him and the promise of our future together, making love with the sweet promise of forever.