Page 66 of Our Secret Moments
Of course Connor does not spend his time reading romance books for fun. Instead, he watches old romantic comedies just because he knows I like them, which means he turns up to my room exactly twenty minutes later in the apron I got him for his birthday and a grocery bag in hand.
“This is not what I had in mind when I invited you over, Connie,” I say, looking him up and down after I’ve closed thedoor. He just grins at me, his cheeks pink and his brown hair a mess. His apron has ‘Connie’ scrawled across it in red handwriting. “Did you just pack that just in case?”
He steps closer to me, dropping a kiss to my lips. “You never know what can happen in a day, Cat.”
For the next twenty minutes, we organise the ingredients for our cheesecake, which we’re relying on the small fridge we have in the room for them to turn out properly. Even after he’s explained to me his very complicated recipe, I’m still unsure how he’s planning to whisk this without a stand mixer.
He managed to convince me that he’s strong enough as I drooled over his huge arms whisking a tiny bowl of cream.
There’s something insanely hot about a man who bakes. Yes, Connor might be god-awful at it, but it’s his determination and the glow on his cheeks as he works around the tiny kitchen that makes him so fucking sexy.
He bakes, I watch. It’s a good combination.
Once our semi-deformed cheesecake is in the fridge, I push myself up onto the counter wiping down the equipment we used that we are somehow going to have to hide from Olivia before she gets back.
“Can I ask you something?” Connor asks, stepping between my open legs on the counter, his hands running up my thighs under my shorts. I nod in response. “Is my baking actually good?”
I’m instantly reminded of the salty taste of the cupcakes he gave me and the lick of the spoon he fed me five minutes ago that wasn’t any better. I paint my face in the most sympathetic smile I can muster up. “It’s not the best, but you can improve.”
He frowns. “Why did you lie to me last time?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” I admit.
A smirk climbs across his face as he sets his palms on each side of me, caging me in. “Do you care about me, Catherine?”His tone is light, but I avert my eyes away from him, trying my absolute hardest not to smile. When my eyes connect with his again, his face is so serious I almost miss what he says. “Do you want me to take my top off? I can take my pants off too, if you want.”
“What?” I gawk, bursting out laughing. “Why in the world would I want that?”
He shrugs. “Because it’s hot when a guy is wearing an apron and nothing else.”
“Yeah? According to who? The last porno you watched?” I manage to get out around a laugh.
Connor gasps, holding up a hand to his chest. “I’ve never heard such filthy words come out of your mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be starting to think you’re not a good girl after all.”
“I think that phone call a few days ago says very, verydifferently,” I say, my voice shaking a little as I tug on his apron, pulling him as close to me as I can get him. If he doesn’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to do something very stupid. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time, and Connor has brought that fire in me that I used to have.
“So confident now, aren’t we?” he muses, dropping his head to the side of my face. His hot breath tickles my ear, igniting an explosion inside of me.
“Only for you,” I whisper back.
When I go to kiss him, I don’t kiss him like I have the other times, I go in with a promise.I’m going to make you feel good,is what I’m telling him when I run my hands across his stomach and around to where the apron ties at his back. The second his apron is off, his shirt follows and I’m greeted to the absolute sight of Connor’s broad, sculpted chest that I want to run my hands all over. I want to cover him in oil and…
Oh, fuck.
Is that an eight pack?
“You finished ogling me yet, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting my head up with two fingers under my chin.
“Actually,” I tease, “Not yet.”
I wiggle my chin out of his grasp only to press my lips against the firmness of his chest. He hisses, his hands instantly finding themselves in my hair. I keep kissing across his chest, moving down until I get to the hard ridges of his abs. When I make my way back up, my tongue flat against his skin, drawing a line down the middle of his abs, his eyes roll back.
“Jesus,” he mutters, “You look fucking stunning.”
I kiss along his throat when he leans down to give me access. “And you taste so good. Why the hell do you taste so good?”
He pulls back. “Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve heard you compliment me that much in the space of ten minutes.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, slipping off the counter, kissing him hard as I walk us back to where the couch is in the open living room area of my suite.