Chapter 9
NINE
RUBY
He’ll let me choose.
What a cocky asshole.
I can’t stop thinking about his words.
I left last night, not offended, but definitely not going toward that closed door where Liam was leading me, especially when he started talking about getting me in bed, or rather, everywhere and anywhere he could.
It was sexy, but it wasn’t for me. And if he really knew me, he would know that anywhere other than a bed is not something Ruby Bennett’s style. Though my style is actually laughable, especially when it comes to the bedroom.
I’m vanilla. Not just a little vanilla with a little flair, like cake batter–flavored or anything, but plain-ass vanilla. No sprinkles ever. Just vanilla.
So I left, without a kiss, without a touch, without anything that was near a bed, a wall, a back seat, or a closet. I hurried to my car, buzzed straight home, and lay in bed until my alarm went off at four in the morning.
Now I’m elbow deep in buttercream frosting, trying not to think about Liam and sex. I fail at both because that’s all I can think about.
Sex with Liam.
Lots of sex with Liam.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex with anyone. Now, the image, the thought, the imagined sensations of sex with Liam consume me. I can’t think about anything else—it’s the only thing in my head.
It’s at the forefront.
I don’t know how I’m going to stop thinking about this, but I can’t live this way much longer.
The door chimes in the distance. I don’t look up immediately, trying to use all of my focus and attention on the buttercream at hand. I’ve got a last-minute cinnamon roll order, a couple of dozen muffins, and a last-minute birthday cake to keep me occupied for the day.
Hopefully, the work can keep my mind off Liam… and sex.
Though I’m not holding my breath.
“I’ll be right with you,” I call out as I hear footsteps move toward me.
The customer doesn’t answer. Quietness consumes me. Consumes the bakery to the point where it’s almost uncomfortable. Slowly, I lift my gaze. At the sight of the person standing in front of me, I almost drop my piping bag.
There he is.
In the flesh.
All six feet one of him. Standing there, unmoving, wearing nothing but a screaming-tight T-shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair is a little messy, his eyes dancing—as if he’s got the most salacious secret anyone could ever know.
It’s not fair how attractive he is at ten in the morning. My heart immediately forgets how to function. My breathing stops too. I don’t even know if I’m standing or if I’ve fallen backward—I’ve blacked out, and I’m in a dream state.
His mouth curves up, then he speaks, and I swear it sounds like smooth, warm honey that flows through my veins.
“Morning, Cupcake Girl,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips, then it flops.
“Hey,” I exhale. “How’d you get my store’s name… and address?”
He snorts. “Corey Simms. He did want you in his bed, but I set him straight.”
I blink, and at the same time, his grin widens. He takes one step forward, then another. I watch as he places his palms on the counter. Liam leans forward, his gaze searching mine, and I know that he’s thinking about that bed and me in it.
As much as I want to tell him to stop thinking about it, I can’t, because I’ve been thinking about it every hour on the hour, and twice at the half hour.
To be honest, I’m not sure I can turn off my brain at all, and I can’t help but wonder if things might change if we did just do the whole bed-together thing…