Have Your Cake

by Roi, D. S.

  “Your sister,” he said. He held the phone out for her.

  What time was it? Was Iona okay, Mom, Eric? “Thank you,” she breathed taking the phone. It was three in the morning. “Iona? What's wrong?” Her voice came out laced with stress.

  Asher watched Cyana’s reaction to the late night call. Her brow cut into a frown. His gut twisted in a knot. He clenched the mattress. Her face suddenly relaxed. She dropped her jaw.

  “I’m going to kill you.” She sighed into the phone. “You scared the crap outta me. Do you know what time it is? I thought something bad happened.” She threw herself back into his pillows and started to laugh.

  Relief rocketed through him. His grip on the cushions loosened. In the moment, he was ready to go wherever she needed to go, do whatever had to be done to clear up her problem. A sigh rushed from his lips.

  He should leave to let her talk to Iona in peace. But when she giggled, her braless breasts wiggled inside the cotton tank. The movement drew his hunger over the rest of her. The shorts hugged her hips, stopped at the curve where her ass met her hamstrings. He bit back a moan.

  “You want to come now? It’s three in the morning.”

  Her question locked his chest. Once it started getting late, he’d fancied they weren’t coming. He’d have more time with her. He wasn’t prepared to give her up. Not now.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m not ready. I’m tired. I’ve been working so hard. On the kitchen here at the mansion. I have to pay for my stay somehow. I can’t let Asher foot the bill for everything. That’s not right. Oh, I can’t wait to show you all the work we did. It’s fabulous. Do you have Mama with you? Girl, you got my mama out this late? Have you lost your mind? Take her home to rest her feet.”

  Her gaze met Asher’s. She covered the receiver on the phone. “Is it okay if I stay?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.” She whispered before removing her thumb. “Put her on. Hey Mama. I’m fine, but you need to rest. No ma’am, I forbid you to see me today.” She smiled. Asher’s heart ached. “I’ll wait here for you. Now don’t get up early and rush out. I won’t expect to see you until tomorrow afternoon. I mean it. I love you Mama but you need to take care of yourself. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow after-noon. I love you. Good night. Smooches. Iona?” The tone of her voice changed. “You will not bring her by here until after two o’clock. Make her sleep. Okay? All right. I love you. Drive safe.”

  She hung up the phone, passing it back to him before rubbing her fingertips over her eyelids. “My god, she scared me.” Cyana sighed.

  Asher watched her with a new awareness. There was nothing shy about the phone call. Cyana was bold and demanding. “You really love your family.”

  She blinked before looking at him. “Of course, family’s wonderful.”

  His chest ached at her reaction to the question. She seemed to answer as if everyone in the known universe should love their folks. “Every conversation I’ve heard sounds like you guys have an open line of communication and really trust each other.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “House full of women. Either everyone loves each other or everyone hates each other. Fortunately, my parents worked real hard at keeping love in the house.”

  He reached out, brushing her cheek. “You’re a lucky girl, Cyana. The world can use the kind of love you and your family share.”

  She smiled against his fingers. He tugged his hand away and set it on his thigh. “Asher, love is everywhere in the world. In the deepest moments of despair it’s what helps us through.”

  He wished he could agree. Wished his life had even a sliver of the love she seemed to carry with her.

  “Just look at you,” she continued, “You’re redoing this whole mansion for love. Wedding celebrations on cobblestoned walkways, vows under hand carved canopies. Elegant dinners served on the back porch with tall glasses of lemonade overlooking a well manicured lawn.” She sighed. “You’re in the love business.”

  “For other people. I don’t think it comes as easily for me.”

  She reached out to the hand against his thigh, wrapping it in her gentle grip, caressing his thick knuckles. “You see these?” She sent her fingers over the scarred back of his hand, opened his fist and toyed with the rough calluses. “This is exactly what love is. Your hands. Rough, worked, busted, and still willing to keep creating. Still making beautiful things for everyone else to see. That’s real love, Asher. It’s not our idea of perfect.” She shrugged. “But, it’s never wrong, never hurtful and always desirable.”

  He met her gaze. It was warm with her truth. Her gentle strokes calmed him from within, setting his world right for a moment. He sighed. “These hands have a lot to learn.”

  She smiled. “Yes. But, they’ve discovered a lot already. It took me a while to realize those things. Everyone does, eventually. Don’t worry. You’re a good man, Asher. I can feel it.”

  When she stressed the word feel, he knew exactly what she meant. Down in the very core of all he was, he’d come to know the sentiment well in these few days. He didn’t want to be without it. She brought the goodness out in him, made him sense it too. His strength, his ability, his willingness to do everything at his best sparked when she was near. Feeding him life; making him a better man.

  He’d never known a woman to do that before. His love life was a version of “swimming with sharks”. To stay safe, he kept his heart at a distance, but Cyana lassoed him in at first sight.

  Saturday. Asher grinned with the thought as he stared up to the ceiling from the single bed. He slept in every Saturday to recharge for the extra labor he would need to put in on the first half of the week. Sleeping on the soft mattress in the spare room wasn’t doing his back any damned good. But, the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air made him stretch to life.

  He used the nearest bathroom to splash water in his face, over his hair and rinsed his mouth. Only one person in the mansion could make it smell so good. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Cyana. He twisted his upper body to the left and right to wrench multiple pops from his spine. His stomach growled, leading him to follow the tempting scent in the air towards the kitchen.

  His brown-eyed beauty was at the counter wiping the last of her mess into the underlying sink. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” She spouted without looking up.

  “Good morning, Love. What’s got the whole house smelling so good?”

  She turned to him while she spoke. “Cinnamon and brown sugar crumb...” Her sentence trailed off.

  He was watching the red oven light on the stove. Her stumble drew his focus to her. She lowered her sight to his feet immediately and straightened herself at the counter. “Um.” She wiped at a spot she’d cleaned before.

  He peered over his body. He’d tugged himself from bed in a pair of pajama pants and nothing more. A smile played at his lips. She must have liked what she saw. He moved in next to her. She wiped the spot again. He leaned against the counter and lowered his voice.

  “I’m sorry, Love. I didn’t catch that.”

  She licked her lips before she started to speak. “Crumble. Cinnamon and brown sugar crumble. I hope you like it. I searched the kitchen. It was the only thing you had all the ingredients for.”

  He smiled. “I love crumbles. Can you make blueberry next time?”

  “Sure. I can make whatever kind you want.” She spoke wiping her brow and not looking his direction.

  “Good, I win.”

  “What?” She aimed for his gaze.

  “You'll have to make it for me. Since this is your last day here, it means I can have my crumble later.”

  “Cowboy, I can’t believe you’ve played me into a corner,” she said.

  He smiled. “Sure sounds like sister-girl for I win.”

  “Hm, you do learn fast.”

  “I’ve learned something else.” He stepped in closer. “If I want this, I have to steal it.” He wrapped his arm around her back to give her no way to escape. She tried to say his name in a
n effort to stop him, but the gesture parted her lips. He dominated her mouth. One taste had left him famished for more. The thought of her had made it difficult to sleep. He’d get his fill now.

  The smell of cinnamon added to the taste of her lips. He palmed her strong waist and melded her against him. She was shy and resistant but he’d be damned if she didn’t kiss him back like a woman begging to be set free.

  He answered the call, dipping his tongue into her mouth, wrapping both hands down around her hips and over the sweet hump he’d wanted to test from the first day he saw her. The firmness of her ass filling his hands made him moan and knead the thick flesh. A wave of desire crashed over him from spine to cock. Her touch seemed to sense it. Soft feminine palms spread over his shoulders and followed his spine as far as she could reach.

  She caressed his neck and down into the cleft of his pecks. Her fingers trailed heat and tingling through the fibers of his skin; deep into the muscles of his shoulders. She curled her fingers into the lengthy patch of fur. The moan she sighed between the slight break in the kiss could do him in. His damned nipples beaded up taunt against the friction of her movement. He wanted more of the sensuous sound. Wanted it louder and louder until it grew into a hunger only he could satisfy. If only she would yield her sweetness over to him.

  He delved firmly, sweeping his passion stronger into her trembling body. He would give as much as she could take. He ground his hips into her belly. The oven let out a high-pitched beep. She tensed. He recognized the signal to let her go. He parted from her lips and lingered, brushing their velvet against his. He moaned against the feel of them, wanted them on his chest, his belly, his cock.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Oh, yes. I intend to. He shut his eyes against the wave of wanting the simple phrase shuddered to his core. He desired to please, to shower attention against every inch of her. He needed to experience how loud her pleading could be for deeper satisfaction. The oven beeped again.

  “The crumble,” she whispered against his lips.

  Damn. He couldn’t keep his little baker away from the confection she’d put together. It would be a crime to let a professional burn the product she’d prepared to share with him. He relented and peeled away more anxious than he could remember being his entire life.

  He heaved in control, but damn well didn't want to. He inhaled a slow stream of body cooling air and relaxed his grip enough to allow her to escape. He adjusted his cock while observing the effects of his kiss on her.

  Cyana steadied herself with a palm against the countertop. She took measured breaths to sooth the sensations making every part of her body sensitive and tingling for stimulation. Asher had activated a long dormant part of her in a series of stares and two kisses. He’d driven her into a frenzy of curiosity making her forget all her reserve and dive head long into wanting.

  Damn, the man was dangerous to her sanity. A longer breath and she righted herself enough not to fall over on wobbly legs. She dare not look at him; certain Asher would have a smug smile on his face, which always made her heart speed up. His grin was like a promise she was certain he could fulfill.

  She took careful steps to the oven and opened the door. The act sent a waft of satisfying goodness into the air. She admired the perfection of her golden brown treat and placed it on the rack she’d set on the island.

  She twirled to Asher, half expecting to see his smirk. No smile showed on his lips. His features were soft, focus smoldering with a new determination. The warmth radiating from his stare tugged at her chest. Yeah. Dangerous.

  Asher made two cups of premium coffee while the crumble cooled and retrieved two small plates and silver forks, setting the island so they could sit across from each other. Every part of him hummed for ten to twelve minutes of hot foreplay, but not with this one. His little baker was a different cut of the pie. He’d let her get away for the moment, but wanted to spend the morning looking her over.

  He watched her like a hawk as she carved the heel and removed the first slice. Her lips curled in a gentle smile. She nabbed the two dishes he’d set out and took them to the counter. Her hands worked with confident delicacy. Warmth spread through his gut as he thought about the touch of those careful hands. She set his plate with a thick slice and carried it over to him. He set his mug on the kitchen island and spied the cake. Her creation looked and smelled like a piece of heaven.

  “Eat up.” She smiled and went back to the counter for her own slice.

  The first bite melted warm and sweet on his tongue. The cinnamon sugar topping dissolved a burst of flavored texture against the roof of his mouth. A loud moan passed his throat. “Damn, Cyana, pardon my language. But, this is the best crumble ever.”

  A confident smile spread her lips. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I would have stocked the kitchen before you showed up. Hell, this here makes me want to run out right now to the grocer.”

  She laughed. “We have no car, remember?”

  He smiled. His F-450 was in the far parking lot left of the house, concealed by a five-foot tall natural fence of boxwoods. He could have volunteered to take her to her folks in his truck on day one, but something in his gut had advised against it. He was smart enough to know admitting he had transportation now would throw a dent in their time together and probably land him in the doghouse. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. “Yeah, we don’t have a car, but we do have a boat.”

  Her brow formed a frown. “A boat? Where?”

  “Down at the tank out back.”

  “The tank?”

  He gave a half-smile. “That’s cowboy for lake, little lady.”

  “Oh.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know there was a lake on the property.”

  “Sure. Just off the workshop through the woods. I keep a boat out there for good rest days like today.”

  She peeked out the big kitchen window providing a view of the grounds. No workers. Every Saturday he sent the world away to do whatever he felt like. Everyone was gone. It was just the two of them.

  “It’s cloudy,” she said.

  “Just perfect. The fish will be biting. You like fishin’?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I haven’t been to a lake in a long time.”

  “Well, let’s eat up. We’ll head out when you’re ready.”

  12

  Asher made quick work of the crumble. He ate every bit of the loaf with only one cup of coffee. Satisfied he truly enjoyed it, Cyana went to the showers and dressed in a white zippered hoodie and grey shorts. Her flip-flops stuck out from the duffle bag. She slid them on.

  By the time she made it downstairs, Asher was ready. She met him in the kitchen. He lowered the coffee mug from his face. Damn. The curve of his lips made her want to taste them again. A t-shirt took shape over his muscled neck, shoulders and chest, but the V-neck left the light brown trail of hair exposed at the top. He had the perfect amount of fur for her, thick enough to be visible, but not a dense forest requiring heavy maintenance. The cargo shorts stopped at his knees. Sandals strapped his feet. Even in his casual style, he exuded sexuality. It took sizable strength not to mount him.

  He straightened off the counter, setting the mug down. “You ready?”

  Cyana followed Asher along the stone path towards the shed. He moved in close, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Yesterday was a touch of home when he walked to the house with her tucked into his side. If there was such a place where peace existed, it’d be wherever Cyana was. He kissed her forehead, silently grateful she didn’t move away. With a smile, she wrapped her arms about his waist. She’d accepted his attentions even when she seemed hesitant. He shortened his stride to match her steps, not minding the lengthening of the walk time.

  She let go of him at the edge of the wood. Her sight followed the height of the pines. He took her hand, giving it a light squeeze to command her focus.

  “Lions and tigers and bears,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “Come on, Love, it’s no
t far.”

  She nodded. He led them through the wood and into a small clearing at the edge of the private lake. He’d found the perfect spot to build a pier and cleared enough land to bring in a load of white sand. He used the leftover sod from the lawn to patch in a trail leading to the dock. His small boat was off to the left securely tied down. It was adequate for the two of them but small enough to make close contact inevitable.

  Several rods and his tackle box were in the boat where he’d arranged them yesterday morning. He climbed into the craft first and held his arms up. She bit down on her bottom lip before taking his shoulders and leaning forward. He lifted her by the waist and slid her down his front at a pace which threatened his control. Her breasts teased his sight before gliding over his chest. Her feet hit the bottom of the boat. He held her close, using his help to take advantage of the opportunity to hold her.

  “Are you good?” he asked.

  She shoved the curl dangling by her right eye away before flashing a heated stare up to him, then down to the boat. She nodded, but didn’t speak.

  He loosened his hold on her. “Go on and have a seat so I can take us out.”

  She gave a soft “Okay” before following his instructions.

  He steered them to the location where he often had the most luck and took a seat.

  “You want to bait your own?”

  She half-smiled. “I won’t need much help, Cowboy.”

  He grinned. “I like a woman who doesn’t mind getting dirty.”

  “I haven’t found any mess I can’t clean up, white boy.”

  He recognized the flirt and nudged her shoulder. “Some things I want to mess up only in certain ways. You up for it, sister-girl?”

  She laughed. “I’ve not met someone like you, Asher.”

  “You ever date a white boy?”

  She shook her head. “Never. Have you dated a sister-girl?”

  “I’ve had a few aliens, but I think they were still white.”