Two Bar Mitzvahs (32 page)

Game on. And I was beyond ready to play.

When she made no move to shed the bright yellow sundress she wore, I took a step toward her, staring hard at her, silently threatening to remove it myself.

She simply stared back at me, holding her ground.

My nostrils flared. “Off. I’m not going to say it again. Naked. Except for your little vintage apron.” I pointed to her feet. “And those strappy shoes.”

Her body shuddered, but she gave a slow nod, mischief flickering in her eyes.

When she moved to untie the thin straps holding up her sundress, I nodded. I relaxed in relief a split second before lust tightened through me as she completely bared herself. Perfect curves tempted, breasts swaying, hips shifting. She stared at me, a beautiful pink flushing her skin while the cotton fabric pooled at her feet.

“The apron is in there.” She pointed to the drawer next to me, trying not to smile.

My gaze locked with hers, I jerked it open and grabbed whatever was on top. Luckily it was the apron in question. I handed it to her and watched wide-eyed as she pulled the blue polka-dot ties over her head. Then she fastened it behind her at the waist, doing incredible things to her breasts.

Shaking my head in disbelief at a fantasy finally turned reality, I had no idea what to do next. But when I focused on the fun about to begin, left-field thoughts fired into my brain. Frosting was about to become a contact sport.

I’d been in her kitchen often enough to find what I wanted. I yanked open the drawer beside me, sending metal and wood utensils crashing into one another. One flew out, clattering onto the floor.

The corner of her mouth twitched, her luscious lips twisting in amusement.

“What are you smirking at?” I glanced down and grabbed a metal whisk with my right hand and a long spatula with my left. “Choose your weapons, Maestro.”

She blinked, eyeing the slotted metal spatula. “That’s for flipping hamburgers.”

Tilting my head, I arched a brow at her. “Says you.”

Dropping her hands onto her hips, she tipped her chin up at me. “What about you?” She continued to stare at the spatula and took a step backward.

I stalked toward her.

She took another step back.

“What about me?” I held my weapons of choice in front of me as my menu item took another step toward the buffet of frostings. “This is my fantasy, remember? Instead of saying ‘thank you’ for making my dream come true, why don’t I show you a great use for this spatula?” I smacked it onto my thigh, making a loud whack against my jeans.

Her eyes widened. “Neanderthal.”

Moving suddenly, she ripped the plastic wrap from the tops of the bowls. Then, as if I wasn’t frayed enough, or maybe because she wanted to push me further, she swiped a finger through the pink frosting before sticking it into her mouth. She made slow work of sucking that lucky frosting off, hollowing out her cheeks as she pulled the finger between her lips.

I growled low. “You got that right. Nothing civilized about to happen here.”

Hannah…

Wild mischief glinted in Cade’s eyes, and I watched closely as he stalked forward. Caught off guard with his sudden playful mood, my muscles tensed. Then I feinted left and lunged right, darting past him and snatching the first two things from the utensil drawer that I wrapped my fingers around. I thrust them up between us in defense—my dual weapons against his.

He snorted. “A ladle? What are your plans with that? Glop hunks of frosting onto my head?” He shifted his gaze to my other hand. “And what the hell is
that
?”

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at my hand. The pea-green tool had flat rubbery “bristles” on its end. “Usually, a silicone basting brush. But tonight, it’s a first-class frosting flicker.” I snapped my wrist toward him, making the rubber ends quiver.

His blue eyes flashed in the bright lights of the kitchen. Which made me glance at the darkness outside the windows and realize anyone peering in could see my near-nakedness. And watch everything else about to follow.

“Ummm, maybe we should close the shutters.”

He glanced over his shoulder, following my gaze. “Why?”

“Anyone can see in.” I chewed on my lower lip, flushing with sudden shyness.

He dropped his classic deadpan look at me. “Anyone, meaning ‘peeping-tom neighbors’ who trudge through your backyard at night?”

I scowled, lowering the ladle and basting brush down to each of my hips. “Or kayakers rowing by.”

“In the pitch dark?”

“What about my neighbors across the water?” I hedged, beginning to feel stupid with my weak stalling ploy.

His stare hardened as one corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk. “If your neighbors across the water have high-powered binoculars mounted on a tripod to catch us the first time we fuck in your kitchen, good for them.”

My lips twitched as I fought a smile. I’d missed him. This lighthearted exchange, his quick wit laced with naughty intentions, was but one of the many facets to Cade that I needed. But underneath all the sexual bluster was a man who loved me.

His absence—the needless separation I’d also played a part in—had been rough on us. And beautiful moments of crazy fun were a part of the courting again, our ritual to celebrate being together, full of life.

In a flash of movement, he whirled around and stabbed the end of each of his utensils into a different bowl. “Get over here, woman.” His eyes narrowed. “Or stay there.” He shrugged, pulling his loaded weapons from the bowls. “I’ll nail you with frosting no matter where you stand.”

I arched a brow, smirking. “Only with frosting?”

He gave me no warning. Soft wetness splattered my cheek, my chest above the low neckline of the apron, and the inside of my left knee. I glanced down to see streaks of pink and green on my skin.

Gaping at him, shocked at the unexpected start of the all-out frosting war, I maneuvered around the kitchen island, taking cover while he reloaded. Hovering at the corner of the barrier between us, I waited.

Amusement glittered in his eyes, and in that split second, time slowed, my heart warming with a heavy ache in my chest. Cade unleashing his true self—the no-holds-barred, vulnerable boy behind the man—made me fall in love with him even harder.

Yeah, these moments were what I missed most when I’d nearly blown it by running again.

Never again.
I hoped. I repeated the mantra in my head a few times, willing it to be true. I’d admitted to Cade that I ran when spooked, but he was worth the attempt at rewriting my knee-jerk panic reaction. For once, it would be nice to trust in someone to be my strength when I faltered—trust in Cade.

“Hellooo, Maestro.” He arced the whisk in a slow wave in front of my face. He’d taken another step closer while I’d been zoning. “Where’d you go?”

I smiled. “Just got lost in this wonderful moment. I really missed you.”

“I missed you too. Bad.” He snapped his wrists, flicking me with the yellow and blue this time.

Pulled back into the present in that split-second frosting flick, I laughed, darting to the other side of the table, shoving the ends of my weapons into the nearest bowls, chocolate and mint green. “You’re going down, Michaelson.”

He froze, blinking. His gaze locked onto something behind me, so I glanced over my shoulder. My entire naked backside was reflected in the windowpane. The blue polka-dot ties dangled down from my waist across one of my ass cheeks.

I turned and unloaded my weapons, firing frosting streaks onto his face, shirt, one bicep, and jeans.

“Hey.” He scowled, glancing down. “I was distracted.”

“You wanted me naked in an apron. Serves you right. I’ll use any advantage I have.” I reloaded.

He shoved his tools into the bowls too.

We proceeded to launch all the colors in an extreme frosting close-quarters combat, spattering each other, along with every surface around us. The bowls and utensils clanged as we knocked them into each other. When we’d exhausted ourselves with laughter, and the frosting supply dwindled, we stopped for a temporary truce, trying to catch our breath.

I gasped for air, pointing to the untouched bowl. “You didn’t use any of the white frosting.” For some reason, I hadn’t either, preferring to show my superior skills by painting bold colors all over him, but we’d actually sustained about equal damage.

“Nope. I’ve got plans for that white frosting.” He crooked his finger at me. “C’mere.”

I hesitated, but he cocked his head—a subtle warning to either obey, or he’d see to the task for me. I smirked and surrendered my weapons, laying them on the table, while sauntering around the other side.

When I came within reach, he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me close, bending down and kissing me breathless. In a sudden move, he broke away and lifted me up, seating me on the marble top of my kitchen island.

I gasped at the cold stone under my bare ass.

Yeah, I’d be cleaning and disinfecting all day tomorrow.

With determined focus, he relocated the condiments from the small surface beside me to the counter next to the stove, then brought over the last frosting bowl and the bottles of toppings. The bowl hadn’t remained entirely untouched during our skirmish; a pink streak and a blue glop marred the frosting’s smooth white surface. He glanced back and reached an arm toward the utensil drawer, pulling out a yellow silicone spatula. Then he dipped it into the frosting.

Time stood still. My breaths grew shallow while he stared at me.

He held me locked in a gaze so all consuming, I felt devoured, cherished, and freed at once. Never again would there be doubt of where I’d run when panic set in. My safe place, existed with Cade, in his arms.

A devilish smirk twisted his lips as his free hand slid warm and firm over my thigh, inching the hem of my apron higher. The spatula in his other hand tilted sideways and fell against the skin high on my inner thigh.

“Ooops.” He pulled the spatula off my leg and tossed it back into the frosting bowl. “I’ve made a mess.”

“You better clean it up.” My bossy tone surprised me. Cade always took a dominant role with our play, and I loved that.

A dark brow arched. His chin inched to the left, his eyes narrowing on me in disbelief. “Did you just give me an order?” He gripped my hips, lifting them clear off the counter and yanking me to the edge. I fell back on a soft laugh. He wanted it clear who wielded control here.

I propped an arm under my head, gazing down at him. “Yeah, I did.”

His blue eyes darkened with desire. He tore his frosting-covered black T-shirt off, revealing his tanned chest. Sleek abdominal muscles tightened, drawing my gaze to the dark dusting of hair that led down beneath the unbuttoned fly of his jeans. I stared at the length bulging against the underside of that denim.

Rich and low, his tone nearly came out as a growl. “Okay, smartass. Now I plan to make a much bigger mess before I ever think about cleaning it up.”

My eyes widened, feigning shock. “Oh? Promise?”

He sucked in a lungful of air, chest expanding. “Wow. Maybe I should disappear more often. I can’t decide whether to spank you or pound into you.”

I grinned, so incredibly happy to have him here with me, the fact we weren’t mindlessly having sex up against the wall already didn’t bother me. I’d missed him too much to care. Teasing and taunting had been the foundation of our friendship and courtship before we’d ever gotten naked. And the fact that we lingered here in this wonderful place of intimacy, of reconnecting, meant a great deal to me. To both of us, I imagined.

Neither of us rushed the moment.

But my smartass couldn’t help itself. “I’m so afraid. That floppy spatula looks dangerous.”

He snorted. “First of all, do not say the word ‘floppy’ when we’re naked. Second, that is not the spatula I would spank your feisty ass with.”

His tone was edgy, serious. My playful expression fell away. I gasped in surprise as an ache throbbed between my legs. “No?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “No.”

Then he shoved his hand back into the drawer, metal utensils crashing together. He rummaged a second before pulling out another metal spatula, only it was wider and solid. The hard surface glinted as he turned it in his hand beneath the overhead pendant lights. “This is the spatula I’m gonna use.”

“Going to?” I stared at it, visualizing the cold unforgiving metal smacking my skin. Another flash of pleasure speared between my thighs at the thought, forbidden, unknown.

“Definitely.” He placed the not-so-harmless kitchen utensil beside my hip. “But first, I plan to heat up your front side. Then I’ll flip you over to sear your backside.”

I groaned at the thought as he dropped his head. His teeth met the skin inside of my bent knee in a gentle bite, hot breath fanning up my thigh as he exhaled.

Tender kisses followed the fogging air, teasing a trail up my inner thigh.

My body flushed hot as I fought to catch my breath. Desire, laced with something greater, pulsed through my veins. Vulnerable and exposed, spread for Cade on his condiment alter in the middle of my kitchen, I offered myself to him. Body, heart, soul, were his.