Don't Go Baking My Heart

She turned around, her skirt swirling around her thighs. He wasn’t looking at Cherisse or Keiran, his full attention on her. Oh. “Yes? How can I help you, Mr. King?”

“I need to talk to you about these desserts. I think something’s wrong with them.”

“You sure? We taste-tested them before. They were okay.”

“No.”

“Um, okay. We’ll be right back,” she told Keiran and Cherisse.

If she didn’t know any better, she would say Devon was pulling the same move she had at the amusement park, but why would he?

She followed him into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with the dessert?”

“Nothing. Just follow me, please.”

She kept walking beside him. “You’ve been hiding from me.”

He opened a door and led her into a room that looked like it was still under construction. No furniture in it. Some boxes on the ground. “I…couldn’t stop my reaction to you,” he admitted. “I needed a moment to myself.”

“Wow. Did you jack off in this moment to yourself?”

He was dressed in a casual shirt with a few of the top buttons undone—enough for her to enjoy a nice view of his throat—and dark jeans. It would be easy to picture him in his bathroom, unzipping to take himself out of his jeans. He didn’t look like someone who’d found release and could relax, though. In fact, he looked more tense than she’d ever seen him.

“No. Why are you shocked? Men must react to you all the time.”

“Not just men, but you’re good at hiding your reactions. Usually. I wouldn’t expect that from you.” She looked around the unfinished space. “Why are we in here?”

“Because.” He turned to her. “Just because. I’m losing my fucking mind over here. You came to a house party in a little glitter skirt that could blow up at any moment if there was a strong breeze and…the back.”

“Yes.” She smirked. “I was hoping you’d see the back.”

“There’s no fucking back on this top.”

“It’s a bodysuit, actually.” She twirled. “So you like it, then?”

“Yes.” He walked into her, forcing her to back up against the wall. “I can’t fucking breathe right around you. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t…”

“Lose control? How long were you looking at me before you decided to come over? Keiran and Cherisse are probably thinking all sorts of stuff now.”

“A while. Two years and I was fine. Then you just show up, and…I don’t know. Broke something open in me, I think.”

“Well, two years is a while, I suppose. The longest I’ve gone without sex is maybe a couple months?” Since her ill-fated attempt at a relationship. She searched for his reaction to that. She knew a lot of men would have a heap of opinions about her sex life. She didn’t give a damn. She enjoyed sex. If they couldn’t handle that, well, fuck them.

“I made do until—”

“A sexy tornado entered your life? It’s okay, you’ll survive with limited collateral damage.” She arched into the wall, baring her neck, inviting him to touch. He seemed to like that part of her a lot. “That poor priest has no idea what’s about to go down in this house after he blessed it. Actually, I don’t even know what’s about to happen. Tell me.”

“I just wanted to touch you, that’s all.”

He did just that, cupping her neck as she’d wanted. He released her and twirled his index finger, signalling for her to turn around. She obeyed, gladly. He didn’t waste any time skimming his fingers down her bare back.

She looked over her shoulder. “Just touching?”

“Yes. We can discuss anything further after the party.”

She wanted to pout at that, but the fact that he had sought her out in front of his brother and Cherisse and brought her in here was progress in her mind. He had to have considered how that might look to anyone watching. Devon didn’t do things without thinking it through like she did, so what had made him decide he didn’t care and do this anyway?

Was he so turned on that his usual control was nowhere to be found? Reba found it fascinating and exhilarating to think she had done that.