Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

He leaned against the nearby wall, shoved the tips of his fingers into his jean pockets, and cleared his throat, making his presence known. “Does everything meet with your approval?” he asked.

She spun around, her eyes wide with elation. Her undisguised gratitude was like a warm ray of sunshine on his soul, and the happiness etching her beautiful features made every penny he’d spent well worth her delighted reaction. And when she looked at him as if he’d given her the moon and stars, he wanted to give her more. Hell, he wanted to give her everything.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she said, her voice filled with wonder and a wealth of appreciation.

He shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. “If you want to be a pastry chef, then you need to bake. I just supplied you with the means to make that happen.” But they both knew the gesture was much more than that.

She closed the distance between them, stopping so close that he could see the affection for him in her eyes, along with a tenderness that nearly slayed him. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before.

“Thank you, Clay,” she said, her voice thick with an emotion that made his heart beat hard and fast in his chest. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, and something inside of him cracked open and shifted. As a kid, he’d grown up without physical affection, had never been hugged by his own mother. As an adult, he didn’t cuddle with women and avoided any kind of lingering embrace because it felt awkward to him. But this…the feel of Samantha’s body pressing against him was so intimate, the connection between them so honest and real…and he liked it.

And it had nothing to do with sex. Forcing his stiff body to relax, he tentatively circled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and holding her tight against him. She was so soft and warm, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her skin and savoring the moment that was very much a first for him.

She pulled back, and he reluctantly let her go, though she only took a single step back. Her hands slid down to his chest, and she kept them there, her face tipped up to his.

“I will pay you back for everything,” she promised, suddenly much too serious. “Every single cent. I swear it.”

“It’s a gift, Cupcake,” he said, and gave in to the urge to run the back of his fingers along the smooth, soft skin of her cheek. “You don’t repay something that is given to you.”

“I can’t just take all of this.” She shook her head. “The money—”

“Isn’t an issue,” he said, cutting her off. And it truly wasn’t, but he could see the doubts in her eyes, so he tried for a compromise of sorts. “Tell you what, how about you repay me by baking your favorite dessert?”

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion, the excitement back on her face. “My favorite dessert isn’t anything fancy or extravagant,” she warned him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something fancier, like a chocolate profiterole or an éclair?”

He laughed. “Do I look like a guy who dines on fancy éclairs and whatever that other thing is called? I want your favorite dessert.”

“Okay,” she agreed, bouncing once again on her feet, as if she could barely contain her renewed enthusiasm. “Will you stay up here and keep me company?”

He couldn’t refuse her. Didn’t want to, anyway. “Sure.”

He sat down on one of the dining chairs facing the kitchen, content to watch Samantha in her element. Now that he’d given her something specific to do, she was focused on creating. She went through the bags, pulling out more items she needed and setting them on the counter, and even went to the refrigerator to retrieve a fresh lemon. That was his only hint as to what she was making. With her back to him, he couldn’t see what she was mixing together, all of which she was doing without a recipe and completely by memory.

Fifteen minutes later, he caught a glimpse of a tray going into the oven, and she continued to move about the kitchen, sorting through the grocery sacks for other items while keeping that pink mixer on and churning ingredients. She was so intent on her work that he didn’t disturb her with conversation. It was enough for him to see how much she loved baking, and he didn’t want to break her concentration.

Xena came sauntering out of the bedroom and jumped onto his lap, and he turned his attention to the cat, who was rubbing against his chest and demanding her fair share of attention. He smoothed his hand along her spine, and she began to purr. He continued to pet her until she’d had enough and jumped back down to graze on the cat food in her bowl.

Before long, Samantha took the tray out of the oven, and the scent of something sweet

and lemony permeated the air. She deliberately blocked his view of whatever else she was doing, so he pulled out his cell phone and checked to make sure he didn’t have any important calls or messages. He answered a few emails and played a couple of games of Tetris, not realizing just how much time he’d killed until Samantha finally spoke.

“Okay, here it is. My very favorite dessert.”

He shut down the game and glanced up as Samantha walked toward him holding a plate. He couldn’t help but grin when he finally got a glimpse of what she’d been creating.

“A cupcake?” he asked incredulously, the irony of that not lost on him.

“Not just any cupcake,” she assured him with a bit of sass as she came to a stop next to his chair. She lowered the dish so he could look at a very fancy-looking sweet treat. “This here is a lemon cupcake, with an amazing lemon cream curd inside and melt-in-your-mouth lemon buttercream frosting swirled on top. I can guarantee that this is the best thing you will ever put in your mouth.”

He shook his head, treating her to a wicked-sounding chuckle as he cast his eyes up to hers. “Maybe the second, third, or fourth best thing,” he corrected as he skimmed his fingers up the inside of her smooth thigh. “But definitely not the best thing I’ve ever tasted or put into my mouth,” he said, pressing his fingertips against the seam of her jean shorts, his insinuation clear.

She sucked in a breath but did nothing to stop the pressure and friction of his fingers rubbing slowly but firmly between her legs.

“You’re so bad,” she said, her husky voice matching the desire flaring bright in her blue eyes.

“I can be even naughtier,” he assured her, his cock swelling in response to the sexy game they were playing, along with the way her nipples poked against the cotton tank top she was wearing, silently imploring him to lick and bite. “Would you like me to tell you what those other things are that taste as sweet as candy?”