“Does the baking come naturally, or did you study it?”
“It’s a little of both. My grandmother on my mom’s side was so passionate about baking, it was ridiculous. So I got it from her. Mom dabbles a bit, but nothing like her mother or her sister. Between you and I, it doesn't take that many skills to make donuts. That said, I do have a shiny Professional Pastry degree from the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts. It's one of Boston's finest culinary arts schools.”
“So you crossed the country with your shiny degree in hand ready to impress the Angelinos palate?”
“As poetic as that was, that’s not my story. I moved to Los Angeles two years ago because I needed a break from my life back home.”
“That sounds heavy.”
A veil of sadness shadows her brown eyes. “It’s one of those tales that doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I sympathize.
“Yeah,” she nods. “It was Mom’s idea for me to get away. Luckily, her sister—who owned the bakery—was willing to give me a place to stay. It made sense for me to help while I was looking for work. The pay was pretty terrible, but I liked it so much, I stayed. Six months into it, Aunt Leslie passed away suddenly. She was sick for a long time, but she never told anyone. Aunt Leslie and her deceased husband didn’t have kids. She left me the bakery and the house in the hip and laid-back part of LA, aka Eagle Rock.”
“That’s quite the journey.”
“Something tells me yours is far more interesting,” she says.
“I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
“And you? Which organ did you have to part with to be here tonight?”
Her eyes drop to my crotch and her cheeks instantly flush.
“To answer your unspoken question, no, I didn’t have to give up that particular organ.”
“Oh God, I wasn’t thinking about your—”
“You weren’t?”
She shakes her head vehemently. She’s even redder now, which only betrays her. “Absolutely not.”
“Really?”
“I wasn’t thinking of your manhood. That would be wrong.”
I flash her a sly grin. “Not in my book, it wouldn’t.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re dangerous.”
“Sue me. A gorgeous and smart woman focuses on that part of my anatomy, I’d have to be a fool not to get excited,” I grin from ear to ear.
“A gorgeous woman?” She turns to the left and then turns to the right, looking around the room. “Me?”
I take a step closer. “Don’t play coy with me, Everly.” She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. “You know you look fucking hot in that suit.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs so low I can barely hear her over the soft music.
We just stare at each other for a few long seconds without saying a word. It’s as if it were only the two of us in this large room. The intimacy between us is almost shameful.
She clears her throat. “Are you in the music industry?”
“I am. I’ve been in the music industry since I was a teenager.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I used to be part of a band called Random Misconception.”
“I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Rock music is my religion.”
“That would explain it. I’m more of a Vickie Sky kind of girl. She’s the one who won the award for most-streamed duet. That song with Julian Payne is incredible,” she says.
“I know Vickie very well.”
Her eyes light up. “You do?”
“I do.”
“How in the world do you know such a big star?”
“My journey started a long time ago. Can we do a little flashback… even if it isn’t Friday?”
“Oh, that’s slick.”
“I’d like to think so,” I wink. “Many moons ago, Random Misconception was a band of four rebels with big dreams. My younger brother Beckett was the guitarist and the lead singer. My cousin Jace was on guitar. And Rod Wolfe was on drums—”
“Rod Wolfe? Is that his stage name?”
“Believe it or not, Roderick Wolfe is his real name. The guy was destined to be a rocker.”
“No kidding. What was your part in the group?”
“I was on base. Rod, Jace and I were also backup vocals. We broke all the rules and we got our fair share of attention for it.”
“I can see it,” she flashes me a flirty smile.
She’s absolutely delectable.
“A few years into our career, Jace’s older brother Jagger had to step in as our manager when we found out the one who was managing us was screwing us blind. That’s when we discovered Jagger was more than just a creative type. He assembled a mean team of lawyers that went after our former manager. It wasn’t pretty, but in the end, we got a lot of the money back.”
“Wow. So you were famous?”
“We had our fans.”
“Did you do the whole sex, drugs and rock and roll thing?” she laughs.
“We were good at being bad boys.”
Were we ever.
She cocks an eyebrow. “I see. So the responsible father act is recent,” she laughs.
“It’s freshly acquired,” I can’t help but laugh as well.
“I assume Random Misconception no longer makes music?”
“You can’t pull the wool over your eyes. You’re right. I no longer make music, but I’m still in the industry. Six years ago, I launched my own record company and I started doing something I swore I’d never do.”
“What’s that?”
“As the exec of a record label, I had to start wearing suits,” I sigh.
“It’s a good thing you wear them so well,” she says.
“Stop that.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Holt. You know you look fucking hot in that suit,” she borrows my words.
I truly didn’t see that coming.
I roar in laughter.
It doesn’t take her long to join me.
Since the music is turned down low in the lounge, we attract a few curious stares.
I’m glad to see she doesn’t care.
“You’re sharp,” I tell her when I’m able to find my composure again.
“A required skill to making some of the best donuts in the city.”
“It goes without saying.” I play along.
“So now that I know about your former rock star career, you still haven’t told me how you’re connected to Vickie,” she challenges.
“She’s one of the artists on my label.”
“You’re pulling my leg.” She’s dumbfounded.
“I don’t make it a habit of lying to pretty girls.”
“Oh my God! She’s one of my favorite artists. She has talent coming out of her yin-yang.”
I laugh. “You’re right. I was lucky with Vickie. Had I hesitated, I would’ve missed the boat. I discovered her YouTube videos in the midst of her trying to get on one of the multiple talent TV shows. I scooped her up right before she received her first audition letter. There was no competition.”
“You have an excellent ear.”
“It’s a professional hazard,” I wink.
“So you don’t only focus on rock musicians?” she asks.
“No. I cross over. It’s all about the talent and the artist’s ability to seduce an audience. I leave country music and rap to other record labels who have perfected the art of promoting those types of music.”
“That’s amazing. Here I thought you were just a regular guy, but no, you know Vickie Sky!”
“So the rest of my story didn’t have as much of an effect on you?” I ask.
She teeters her head from left to right as if she’s pondering on my question. “Kudos on the music career and the record label, but we’re talking about Vickie Sky here.”
We both laugh.
“What a small world,” I say, drawing a circle around the room with my index finger.
&nbs
p; “I know, right?” she smiles up at me.
“This is the last place I ever thought I’d bump into you.”
“You and me both,” she says.
“So here we are, the baker extraordinaire and the music exec,” I say with a nod.
She places a delicate hand against her chest. “I prefer to think of myself as a donut dominatrix considering how fearlessly I can whip batter.” She attempts to sound serious despite the smile stretching her lips.
“Donut dominatrix?”
Oh, I’m flying half-mast now.
“Yes.”
“What a title. Pretty creative,” I laugh, my tone teasing.
“Innovative thinking is what sets me apart,” she volleys.
“That would explain the kick-ass tux.” My smile widens and I’m pretty sure she can read the mischief in my eyes. “Where do you hide your whip, Mistress?”
“I appreciate the level of respect in your tone,” she says, lifting her chin up.
I love that she’s willing to play along.
“It’s only right.” I’m trying really hard to hold back a laugh.
“It’s a trade secret.”
“Ah, I see. Would you be kind enough to share that with me, Mistress?”
“Are you worthy of me telling you?” she asks with the utmost seriousness.
Fucking hot baker.
“My fate lies in your hands.”
She folds her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know if I have what it takes to continue this,” she admits.
“You were on a roll.”
“I was just feeding off of you.”
I move closer. “You don’t fool me, Everly. Behind the cloud of sugar, I think you’re a deviant. Perhaps you haven’t met your match yet… until now, that is.”
“And you think you’re a suitable match?” she asks, daringly.
I don’t answer her question. Instead, I say, “I have my own trade secret.”
“Do you?”
“Yup. Want to hear it?”
“Sure. Why not?”
The sly smile she flashes—one full of audacity and amusement—causes my cock to swell.
“I’m quite proficient at getting a donut dominatrix—specifically one who rocks a tux like you do—to bend to my will.” I allow for a pregnant pause. “And I mean that literally.”
“Oh.”
“I think you’d make a willing victim, Everly.” My voice is thick.
With her eyes half-lidded, she licks her bottom lip.
Damn.
My nostrils flare at the seductive sight.
“Oh,” she repeats.
“You’ve been warned,” I flash her a huge grin. “But I wouldn’t make it easy on you.”
It’s her turn to move closer. “What do you mean?”
I caught you in my web.
“I’d make you beg.”
She lets out a little laugh and rolls her eyes. “I don’t beg.”
“You’d have to beg for it.”
“Puh-lease. I don’t—”
I inch closer, completely obstructing her view of everyone who surrounds us. With our eyes locked, I place my fingers underneath her chin and tilt her head way back. I lean down, my nose brushing against her temple.
“You would with me,” I whisper in her ear.
Her breath hitches.
“And I’m willing to bet you’ll enjoy it,” I add.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself there, Mr. Christensen,” she argues in a feeble voice.
“Call it a hunch. A very strong one, Miss— I didn’t get your last name.”
“It’s Bickford-Smith.”
“In that case, consider yourself warned, Miss Everly Bickford-Smith.”
“You’re taking an awful lot of liberties with that assumption—”
“You mean fact.”
“Someone is cocky.”
“Am I being cocky when I know I can deliver on my promise? In spades.”
Her eyes widen like saucers.
“I don’t know anything about you, Holt Christensen. You could be a married man looking for a good time with an unsuspecting donut dominatrix.”
Good one.
“So you’re interested?”
She clears her throat. “I didn’t say that.”
Too bad the veil of lust covering your big brown eyes betrays you.
“I’m just trying to understand where you’re coming from,” she adds.
I think it’s pretty clear.
I study her.
She brushes her hands in a semi-circular motion in front of her face. “Forget what I just said—”
Too late.
“Have you noticed a ring on my finger?” I ask.
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” she retorts.
“So you’ve been checking me out.”
She shrugs. “You didn’t have a ring the other day at the bakery.”
“Like I said, you’ve been checking me out.” That sly smile is back on my face.
“In any case, my point being, contrary to children’s storybooks, it’s a well-known fact storks don’t drop babies from the sky right at their parents’ doorstep.”
“Thanks for the reminder. What are you getting at?”
“You don’t need a ring to be in a relationship,” she states.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not married and I’m not in a relationship. My little princess is my responsibility… and mine alone.” She readies herself to ask another question, but I continue. “I don’t have a girlfriend either and I’m not seeing anyone on the side. Any other questions?”
She swallows thickly and mutters her response. “I don’t think so.”
“Good. What about you? How many men have you seduced with your mad donut dominatrix skills? More precisely, what about the guy that works with you? Should I be worried he’ll come after me for hitting on his girl?”
CHAPTER 12
Everly
I bite my cheek to stop from smiling so much.
I can’t believe this.
Holt Christensen, the very handsome guy who had me drooling the first time we met, is hitting on me.
Me?
Oh. My. God.
I’ll have to thank Ainsley for wanting a break from all the partying. Without her suggestion, I wouldn’t be standing here in front of this delicious wall of muscle.
Holt’s taunting smile has my stomach doing somersaults.
Still focused on his hypnotic eyes, I try to remember his question. The loud thud of my heart prevents me from thinking straight.
“What guy?” I ask, still under his spell.
“The one that kept brushing me off, telling me to come back when I stopped by your bakery last weekend.”
“Oh, Callum. He’s my cousin.”
“So he’s family? I don’t have to worry?”
“Not at all.”
“What about your other suitors?”
“You’re safe. You don’t have to worry about them either.”
“You’re single?”
“I am.”
“I don’t believe it,” he challenges.
“Why not?” I challenge back.
“Are you telling me men aren’t banging down your door?”
“Maybe I don’t like to be tied down.”
His gaze narrows. Eyes fixated on me. Blue irises turning dark.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
His head angles to the side, cockiness painted on his face.
“Hmph.” He hums a non-committal sound.
“Are you going to give me more to go by?” I press.
He looks at me with unrelenting intensity in his eyes.
I blush furiously under his inspection.
I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something ominous—dangerous even—about him right now.
He leans towards me. “Obviously the guys you’ve been with so far don’t have a clue what they’re doing. When done properly, behind tied up or tied dow
n is as enjoyable for you as much as it is for me. Not that I want to boast, but I have some mad skills, Everly.”
Is it wrong to admit my pussy is throbbing like crazy right now?
“You’d be surprised what I can do with a tie or stockings,” he continues, “Trust me, you’d change your mind about being tied down real quick.”
Holy hell.
His tone is steadfast.
His voice without hesitation.
There isn’t a trace of humor in his statement.
My nipples harden and my mouth waters. My body aches in places I’ve never felt before as I soak in his words.
Dear God.
Forget about throbbing, I'm officially doing Kegel exercises.
Was that an invitation or just a taunt?
I look up and notice the barely there arrogant smile on his lips before meeting his eyes again. My mouth drops open at the lingering lust I see in his stare.
He’s serious.
I try to swallow, but I can’t. It’s as if I’m parched. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve gone without for so long.
Silence stretches between us and I convince myself I need to look away from those mesmerizing ocean blue eyes. Yet I can’t find it within me to break the hold he has on me, let alone breathe.
The man renders me speechless.
I’m taken aback by this guy’s undeniable virility.
I’m completely affected.
His mouth twists into a cocksure grin. “I see the wheels churning in your pretty little head, Everly.”
“Okay, so you one-upped me,” I say when I find my voice again. “You had me going there for a minute. Tied up. Tied down. Ha! Good one. Funny how you twisted that around,” I deflate. I even let out a small laugh.
“Who said I was joking?”
“Oh.”
Jesus.
The sexual tension coating his skin is so thick, I almost feel it.
“Have you ever given up all control to a man before?” he asks.
My body hums with awareness.
How am I supposed to respond to that?
No, is the logical answer. After all, I don’t know this guy.
But I’m already imagining it.
Imagining us.
His hard body pressed against mine, strong arms holding me tight, full lips taking mine.
I wonder how it feels to be tied down. Specifically, how it would feel with him.
“I didn’t even know it was an option,” I say in a whisper.
Torrid Rush: A Single Dad Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 3) Page 9
