Don't Go Baking My Heart

He was supposed to be baking on his own, with her just standing by, taking notes and filming him for the prep entries. How he was supposed to do any of that while acting as if nothing had happened between them and that he wasn’t nervous about speaking to Jeremy was beyond him.

The already daunting task became impossible with Reba up under him, observing his every move, filling his senses with her scent. She recorded him as he went through the motions of making the cake, capturing his less than stellar moments. He had nearly fumbled the flour all over the counter and floor, catching the measuring cup before it completely slipped from his hand. Reba had given him a raised brow but hadn’t said a word.

When he almost absentmindedly used the salt instead of sugar, she gripped his wrist.

“Whoa, hold up. I love salty food, but I’m not sure about the salty-sweet effect for this cake.”

He calmly replaced the salt and picked up the sugar to measure the correct amount. “It’s fine. I’m good.”

“You’re two scoops short of making a mess.” She cocked her head at him. “Am I distracting you that much?”

“No.” Yes. Absolutely yes. All he could think of was what she would do if he swiped a bit of batter on his finger and offered it to her, a copy of her move from the last time.

“Hey, you want to ravish me in your kitchen. It’s normal. I mean, I’d want to have my way with me too.”

“There’s nothing normal about any of this,” he shot back.

She shrugged like she didn’t care. It was his problem to fix, so why should she? He was the one who couldn’t seem to get his head right enough to get this cake done. It was harder now that he knew the sounds she made when he twisted his hips just right while thrusting. Reba didn’t hold back, felt no qualms about being loud with her pleasure.

“Let’s just focus.”

“Okay, you first.” She gestured at the bowl where he had been trying to add the ingredients.

Nothing about this should be hard. In theory, it was just a larger version of the cupcakes, wasn’t it? Sure, she had tried to up the level a bit by choosing a two-layer marble cake—which meant he had more work to put in to get it right. If he couldn’t get to the batter without screwing shit up, the rest would be a disaster. He wouldn’t let a simple cake thwart him.

“If you can’t get this right, how you gonna do the Rubik’s Cube?” she asked in a playful tone. “That requires a lot of focus. I know your analytical brain can do the math, but it takes more than that.”

Her teasing tone did nothing to improve his tenuous mood. “We still don’t know if you can make the cake. So how can you teach me?” he shot back.

“Still underestimating me, I see. Finish getting the first batch of batter right, hmm? We have plans tonight after all and can’t spend all day on this, as much as I enjoy seeing you struggle through wanting me.”

He scowled at her but went back to the batter. He hated that she was right. He was struggling, and he did want her. Again.

The idea of that priest coming to exorcise her from his house, and life, was looking more appealing by the minute.