Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He did as I said, and the dough fell out in several pieces. “Now use your hands, press it together, and then lift it and fold it on itself.”
“Like this?” He smashed the dough down like he was trying to press it into a pizza pan.
“No, like this.” I demonstrated. “Work from the sides. Squish it in like you’re trying to make a thick disc.”
I guided his hands. I meant to let go and leave him to do it on his own, but I couldn’t stop touching him. I was so fucking into him, and it scared the shit out of me.
I kept hold of his hands, showing him how to lift one side of the dough, fold it in on another, and press it down. “Now turn it a quarter turn.” We went through the process several more times. “Now shape it into an eight-inch disc.”
“Eight inches, huh? That’s a good size.”
“Corey, focus on the scones.”
He sighed dramatically. “I missed being able to touch you. It was so good sleeping next to you, so warm, tucked in your bed, but I wanted so much more. I wouldn’t have dared to wake you, but I thought about it. I thought about finding out if sucking you off would make your headache go away.”
“God dammit, Corey, we’re never going to get these in the oven if you keep acting like that.”
“You shouldn’t be so fucking hot.”
I huffed. “I never tried to seduce you. I tried to ignore you.”
“I’m hard to ignore.”
“I noticed.”
He looked back at me smiling. “You talk to me now.”
“Self-defense.”
He pressed on the dough, but his circle was uneven and much thicker on one side than another. “How’s that?” he asked.
“Good. I’ll show you how to make it better.” I smoothed the dough, and he placed his hands on mine, lightly feeling my movements. His skin was warm and soft, not rough like mine. I couldn’t help myself. I raised one of his hands to my lips and licked his palm.
He groaned. “Oh my God, don’t stop.” I kept licking his hand, then took his soft fingers into my mouth, and sucked them. “That feels so fucking good, but we’re never going to get the scones in the oven if we keep doing this.”
His mocking tone made me growl. “Fucking asshole.” I yanked his fingers from my mouth as he tried to push them deeper. “Use the bench scraper to cut the circle into eight pieces.”
“Is that this thing?” He picked up the bench scraper.
“Yes. It’s good for cutting dough and also for scraping the bits of dough left on the counter.”
“I love that you know all of this.”
“I know a lot of things.” Somehow my hands had ended up back on his hips.
“I’d like to know more. I bet you could teach me so many things.”
I smacked his ass. “You said you weren’t innocent.”
“I didn’t say I’ve done everything.” He looked over his shoulder. “Have you?”
“Close.”
His eyes widened. “Fuck.”
“Cut the scones.”
He focused on the dough again. “Do I do it like cutting a pizza?”
“Yes. Make eight pieces.” I forced myself to step away while he took care of slicing. I pulled a pan from the cabinet and covered it with parchment paper.
“Lay the scones out on this pan. The oven is already preheated.” He scooped the scones off the counter and began to place them. “Give them enough space. They’ll expand as they cook.”
“I know that from making slice-and-bake.”
“Right.”
When he was done, I took the pan, put it in the oven, and turned the timer on.
“Twelve minutes. That’s not long.”
“That’s one of the nice things about scones. It’s a quick process.”
“So what do we do while we wait?” He hopped back up on the counter, leaned back on his hands, and spread his legs.
“What we should be doing is cleaning up.”
He pouted at me. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“You are trouble.”
“And you’re grumpy, but I know how to fix that.”
I couldn’t resist him. I moved between his legs, gripping his thighs and widening them even more. His lips parted as he stared at me. His gaze dropped to my lips as he licked his own.
“You’re fucking mesmerizing,” he said.
“No, you are.” He sat up. He reached for me, and he ran his fingers over the scar on my cheek the way he had before.
“Are you ready for me to touch you now?”
I exhaled, letting myself enjoy his fingers trailing over my cheek. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You go from hard to soft so fast.”
I gave him a glare. “That’s insulting.”
“See, you can joke around too.”
“With you, I can.” Why was I admitting that? Why was I making this even worse? Why was I letting myself fall even harder for him? Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to fall for him— or anyone—at all. I couldn’t. I didn’t need anyone.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.