“You do love this shit.”
I jumped with a squeak and hit myself in the forehead with a spatula covered in chocolate icing.
Smooth, Lila, real smooth.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.” I frowned at him, but the effect was lost with the icing on my forehead.
Chapter Eleven: Lila
Dare’s laugh filled the apartment, echoing off my walls. The sexy rumble lit me up like always. Relaxed with laughter, his face transformed, looking innocent and young. He lost the serious edges that warned everyone away.
I grabbed a towel to wipe the frosting off.
He closed the distance quickly, with his hand out. “Let me.”
I eyed him but handed over the towel. He bent and kissed the frosting from my brow. His tongue darted in quick licks over my forehead. My knees weakened and I grabbed the counter for support. Holy mother of sexy, his licks revved me up. He took his time with the licking kiss, but I didn’t complain. When he finished, he dabbed the spot with the towel.
“Good icing.” His lips claimed mine. He tasted of my chocolate icing, and that should be illegal.
“So are you.” The words didn’t even make sense. I scrubbed my face. “Food?”
“If you got leftovers.” He shrugged.
“I had a sandwich, you want one?” I already had my head in the fridge, grabbing ham, cheddar, mayo and veggies. “You like mayo and green pepper on your sandwich?”
“Make it like you make yours.”
I assembled his sandwich and he took it into the living room while I went back to icing cakes.
After he finished, Dare brought his plate to the kitchen sink and fiddled with my phone to start the music again. Turning, I bumped into him. My kitchen was tiny and a huge biker didn’t fit the space.
“I want the apple pie.” His words were gruff, but a shadow lurked in his eyes.
Did he think I’d say no? I never said no.
“Better make sure it’s good enough.” I winked and handed him a fork.
A smile spread across his face, and I thought it was what he looked like as a kid. He took his treasure to the kitchen table. Unable to resist, I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture. I’d taken a few photos but not nearly enough. It would be all I had when we’d run our course.
“You are a fucking genius.” His tone was reverent. “This is the best.”
After another hour of baking I was done with all the cakes and cobblers, and I quickly cleaned up. The great thing about having few dishes is clean-up is quick and continuous. No way to pile up dishes.
Dare wrapped his arms around me as I drained the dishwater. “Done, Red?”
“For now.” I leaned into him. “You got plans for me?”
He turned me around and pinned me with his gaze. “Want me to stay tonight? Then go out to the clubhouse later in the day.”
Why did he ask? He’d stayed before.
“Sure, anytime.” I leaned forward on my toes to kiss him. He could stay every night and that would work perfectly for me.
He stepped back, hands in mine. “It’ll make it easy to head out to the club tomorrow.”
Delusional much, Lila? I had to stop making every question the next step in our relationship to nowhere.
* * *
My eyes flew open. I turned to the alarm clock, afraid I’d overslept. Only eight o’clock, a half hour before I’d set my alarm to go off. Stretching in bed, I rolled over toward Dare. Asleep, his beautiful features appeared angelic. I resisted the urge to lick the nipple peeking out of my blue comforter. He needed his sleep, and I had cheesecake and cookies to bake.
I pulled on some sweats and tied up my hair—a shower would have to happen later—before I headed back to the kitchen.
The scent of coffee wafted by me, waking me a bit more. While it brewed, I whipped up the cheesecake recipe—one that didn’t appear too complicated for my first attempt at the dessert. Once they were baking, I carried my second cup of coffee to my chair.
I liked waking up with him. Dangerous. My budding feelings tempted me with fantasies of a lifetime together. Life didn’t bring guarantees, and this pseudo-relationship brought even less. It was a gamble, and no matter how much I hoped this time I’d win, honestly I probably had a better chance of winning the lottery than making this last.
Enough thinking, Braham. Worry never helped anyone.
I’d boxed up the last of the peanut butter cookies when Dare strolled into the living room with his phone to his ear. “Better bring two guys, lots of shit here.”
I scowled at him. My desserts were not shit.
He smacked my ass and bussed a kiss to my cheek on his way to the coffee. He hung up and poured a cup. He took it black, like me.
“The boys’ll be here in about twenty.” He leaned back against the counter.