21. The Muffin Proposal #2
I arrive at the farmhouse first and notice that Braden is not right on my tail.
Uh-oh .
I peer down the driveway. No headlights.
Stop worrying. Maybe he hit a light.
I walk into the house and slip off my heels, stretching my toes against the cool wood floor. “Damn torture devices.”
Padding into the kitchen, I see the flowers on the table and my heart melts.
I pick them up and put them into a vase, inhaling their sweet perfume.
“I see you found the flowers.”
“Crap,” I yip, damn near dropping the vase. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that.” He leans against the counter, his chin resting in his palm. “Are you hungry? I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Not unless wine counts.”
Braden winds around the island and opens the fridge. “Definitely not. I picked up steaks and wine earlier. Want to fire up the grill?”
I grab his shirt, easing him back from the fridge. “No.”
He shuts the fridge door and turns to face me. “I thought you were hungry?”
Rising on tiptoe, I wrap my hands around his neck and press a long, leisurely kiss to his mouth. “I am. For you. Let’s go to the garden. Dinner can wait. I can’t.”
The scent of jasmine wafts around us as I lead Braden to the garden. It’s a short walk, but with each step, I grow more desperate.
I step onto the soft grass and face him, his chiseled features highlighted by the full moon hanging above us .
He’s the most gorgeous man on the planet—and somehow, he’s mine.
He drags a gentle hand along my cheek, and I turn my face into the caress, twirling my tongue along his digits.
Braden leans in for a kiss, but I step back with a teasing shake of my head. “I have something else in mind.”
My hands slide over his chest, down his abs, until they reach the hem of his shirt. I tug it up, and he lifts his arms, letting me strip it away.
“I want to explore every inch of you,” I whisper, trailing my hands over his torso, my lips following close behind.
His head falls back with a groan as I drag my tongue across the curve of his pecs, my nails dancing lightly across his skin. I trail lower, tracing the ridges of his stomach, and when I reach the button on his jeans, I glance up at him.
He locks his gaze on mine, his eyes dark with hunger.
Good. He wants this as badly as I do.
“Mina,” he murmurs as I unzip his jeans, my name like a prayer in his mouth.
“Shh. Let me take care of you.” I undo his jeans and slide them down, kneeling before him on the grass.
Tonight, it’s my turn to worship him.
I wrap my hand around his cock, the skin smooth beneath my palm. I stroke his length as he bucks against me, a low groan rising from his throat.
Wrapping my hands around his hips, I take him in my mouth, his entire body reverberating with need. My tongue glides along his shaft, dancing over the tip as his hand rests on my head.
But he’s holding back, and I want him wild.
I press a few kisses to his hip and meet his gaze. “Show me, Braden. Don’t hold back. I want to know exactly what you need.”
He bites his lip and winds his hand in my hair, directing my mouth back to his cock .
He guides my head up and down, and I work him over, the desperation in us both nearing a breaking point.
But I don’t stop.
I need to push him over that edge, just like he’s done to me so many times.
Every time I suck him deeper, his breath hitches like he’s trying not to fall apart—which is exactly where I want him.
His body jerks, rough groans tearing from his throat as he comes.
I lick my lips and rise, watching him stumble back and collapse onto the chaise like I just short-circuited his soul.
“Holy shit. That was amazing.”
“We’re not done yet.” I peel off my dress and shimmy out of it, earning an appreciative nod.
“Come here, beautiful.”
“Not yet.” I shed my bra and underwear, keeping my gaze locked on him as he strokes his cock.
I straddle him, teasing him with kisses, his hands gripping my hips and pressing me close.
I’m loving this shift in the power dynamic.
I’m also loving the fact that the man has seriously impressive rebound ability.
Or maybe it’s just me that brings it out in him.
“Look at you. All ready for round two.”
“Might have something to do with how fucking gorgeous you are.”
“I like that answer.”
He grabs a condom from his pocket and rolls it down his hardened shaft. “Ride me, Mina.”
I sink onto him with a gasp—part relief, part holy-shit-he’s-so-deep —and he grips my hips like he’s anchoring himself.
I wrap my arms around him, rocking slow and steady. This isn’t just about pleasure, it’s about showing him he’s mine. That I know exactly how to love him.
He swears under his breath, his hands roaming everywhere—my thighs, my waist, up to my face. I grab them and press them to my chest, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Mina…” His voice is ragged, thick with need.
“I mean it.” I ride him harder now, faster, the pleasure curling hot in my belly. “I love you, and I’m never walking away again.”
He comes with a ragged curse, body jerking beneath mine. I follow, shuddering as the orgasm crashes through me, both of us left breathless and ruined in the best way.
I press a kiss to his collarbone. “Damn, I’m starving now.”
His chest shakes with laughter. “I think you’ve earned a meal.”
I lift my head and grin. “Then I want you for dessert. And breakfast. And maybe brunch, if I don’t let you sleep. How does that sound?”
He kisses me, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s start with dessert. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“You know what? Steaks taste way better at 2:30 in the morning.” I grin, stretching my legs across Braden’s knee as we eat on the screened-in porch.
I’m not joking. Great food and a glass of Chablis make everything better.
Throw in a gorgeous man and the most mind-melting night between the sheets, and I’m convinced this is peak living.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
“Agreed,” Braden replies, lifting my leg to kiss the top of my foot. “You were fucking spectacular.”
I shoot him a coy wink. “I have an excellent teacher. ”
Look, I’m new to the sex thing. The other nights, I let Braden take the lead—and damn, he is one hell of a leader.
But tonight? Tonight was all about him.
I worshipped him the way he always worshipped me.
And judging by the satisfied grin he’s been wearing ever since, he appreciated the switch-up.
Though something tells me he plans to return the favor.
Not that I’m complaining.
He glides his hands along my calves, his touch so warm and protective. “Do you know when I realized I was in love with you?”
My eyes fly open at the mention of that word. “You’re in love with me?”
Braden snorts and nods. “Yes. I’m in love with you.”
I scramble off my seat and onto his lap, needing to be closer. “Really?”
“Really, really,” he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
That’s it. I can die happy now.
“Here I was, planning several more performances like the one earlier to butter you up. Ease you into the idea.”
He pulls me tighter, his lips gliding along my neck. “Oh, you can definitely do that again. Many more times.”
“Right now?”
“No. Right now is all about you.”
I nudge his face up, nipping his lower lip. “All about us.”
He pauses, eyes soft, hands gentle as he brushes the hair from my face. “Us. I like that term.”
“Me too. So… when did you know?”
A hint of color creeps up his cheeks. “That night on the dock. You remember—the night of the shark attack?”
I smack his chest and laugh. “Not one of my finer moments.”
“You were adorable. And I knew I could look at you for the rest of my life and be happy.” He runs a tender hand down my face. “I love you, Mina.”
All the poetic, beautiful, sappy words fly out of my head the second he says it.
I cover my mouth with both hands, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Don’t start crying,” he murmurs. “It’s not that bad.”
And now I’m laughing through my tears, peppering kisses across his cheeks and jaw. “Promise me I can love you forever.”
A mischievous sparkle lights up his face. “I’m sure you can convince me.”
Oh, he wants to play? Game on.
I pop to my feet and grab his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Convincing you won’t be the hard part. Keeping up with me might be. Hope you’re ready, Hammond.”
Later that afternoon, I call Mom via video chat. She deserves to know what’s going on with Bitsy, regardless of the outcome.
We spend a few minutes on small talk, discussing her new place and how she got lost trying to find the post office.
But then we shift to the important stuff. The good stuff.
Turns out, I don’t have to tell her about the dinner—Bitsy beat me to it.
“Your aunt said you gave quite the performance last night.”
I pick at my cuticle and shrug. “She deserved it.”
“Not according to her.”
“Let me guess. I’m terribly rude and dating a horrible hooligan of a man.”
My mother laughs. “Something like that. I was shocked when she called me. Figured you had to have done something to anger her.”
“That’s me. Burning bridges all the way.”
“Want to tell me your side? I have a feeling it’s closer to the truth.”
So, I do. I rehash the entire debacle—from the wedding weekend to the French bistro.
By the end, Mom looks exhausted.
“Are you mad?” I ask, unsure I want to know the answer.
The thing is, besides Braden, my mom is the only person I never want to disappoint. That studio wasn’t just important to me—it represented a foot back in the door for her, too.
A door that I assume is now permanently locked from the inside.
“At you? No. At our aunt? Irredeemably. She’s always been pushy and pedantic, but this is too much.”
“Not the way she sees it.”
My mother laughs. “Don’t you know Bitsy has never been wrong a day in her life? The only woman in the world who’s infallible.”
I’m so glad she’s on my side—that she understands I couldn’t walk the elitist tightrope Bitsy demanded.
“She’ll never give me the studio now,” I mumble, equally preparing her and myself for the inevitable.
“Maybe not. I gave her an earful about how you were the best candidate and what really matters is the students. She claimed Leo said the same thing, so… maybe she’ll see reason.”
“Or maybe she’ll morph into the Easter Bunny and hop away home.”
My mother chuckles, touching the screen. “One can only hope. Send Braden my love and be good to each other. Despite everything, you look happy.”
“Gloriously so.” And I realize, as we end the call, that I am. Sure, my heart hurts knowing the studio will probably go to Vanessa, but life goes on.
Maybe that was never my path to walk.
Maybe dance isn’t the dream it once was.
Or maybe I’m telling myself those things so it hurts less.
“Hey,” Braden peeks his head into the room. “Want to take a walk?”
I smile and nod, knowing one thing for certain. Braden is the dream I never saw coming.
He makes it all worthwhile.