by Roi, D. S.
“Don’t ruin it. Just…let it be. For today, at least. It’s not him. This time it really is me.” She sucked in a breath. “It really is me.” She sighed and fell into the energy of the kitchen. The sun shined through the large glass window off to her right, lighting the breakfast nook where they sat and ate his delicious dinners. The white cabinets in the kitchen gleamed, adding to the air of happiness. She leaned against the cool countertop before arranging her tools.
Asher watched her with intensity as she cut each cake, choosing two different sizes of rounds for the red velvet, yellow and white cake. Cyana cut the German chocolate and vanilla into varied squares. She separated the cake segments from the waste sponge and tossed the unused portions into a single box. She slid the contents over to Asher. He smiled at her.
The warmth she’d grown accustomed to washed over her. She soon forgot he was there while she focused on icing the many layers of her sample cakes. She dirty iced all five mini cakes before she sighed and examined her creations. The wheels were turning in her head as she imagined the finished designed of the red velvet.
“Damn, woman. You’re some kind of magic with sugar.”
She glanced at Asher with the half-devoured box of waste cake. Her spine straightened. “Asher, you ate that much cake?”
He nodded. “Ruined my appetite.”
She laughed heartily, covering her stomach while leaning into the counter. “You’re going to be sick.”
“I got a little bit of cake hangover going on right about now.” He grinned. “Hair of the dog will clear it right up.”
“Cowboy, you better not eat anymore cake,” she warned.
“You’re probably right.” He eyed her tiers. “What next?”
“Fondant. Mr. Helper, if you wanna make yourself useful for more than a garbage disposal you should get over here.”
“For you? Anytime.”
“Good. Grab a rolling pin.”
Asher washed up, then went into the kitchen’s pantry and returned with rolling pins. He settled next to her, his scent mingling well with the treats. She stifled the need to give in to the tingling of her lips and go for a kiss. Instead, she opted to dust a clean section of counter next to her with powdered sugar before covering her workplace. It was the more practical thing to do. “You gotta work quickly. I’ll give you the smaller pieces.”
“Oh, going easy on me, huh?”
She smiled. “I’m a professional. I don’t expect you to keep up.”
“How hard could it be?”
“Rules,” she said, tugging plastic wrapped balls of fondant from the container. She needed to get going or she'd lose her focus entirely. “Roll it super thin, about an eighth of an inch. For the top tiers it should measure a six inch round on the circles and an eight inch round on the squares. Try not to get the powdered sugar on the top. Are you ready?”
He nodded.
“K. Get your fondant. Knead it a bit to make it loose. Then start rolling.”
She’d successfully covered four of the five bottom tiers while Asher worked on the first small round.
He scratched his head and peered over to her. “Mine certainly doesn’t look like yours.”
She paused, analyzing the round he was working and the wrinkled elephant-skin surface. “Oh, you’ve worked it too long.”
“Damn, you make this look effortless.”
She smiled. “Give me a minute.” She slapped down her last piece and worked it against the marble before smoothing it out over the final circle.
“Just rub salt in the wound,” Asher joked.
She chuckled. “You just need a little practice. Here. I’ll work with you.” She stepped to the front of him after giving a new piece of her homemade fondant a few squeezes. “Place your hands on the pin.”
He captured her between his biceps. She settled her grip over his. “Okay. Start rolling.”
The peppermint fragrance of her hair hit Asher’s nostrils. Cyana’s heat burned into the front of his body. Something rattled his little baker before she showed up, but as she eyed her creations and worked magic on the sponge cake, ease seeped over her.
“A little more pressure,” she said. The back of her brushed against his front. He stifled a groan. His growing cock wasn’t making concentration easy.
“If you want more pressure then I gotta come a bit closer, little lady.” He took another step forward into full contact with her and gave the pin a roll.
“Like that,” she said. “A bit harder. Keep going.”
“I’m thinking we had this conversation already.”
She smiled, turned her head and placed a kiss against his jaw. Randomly, his mind registered he had yet to take her from this position. The memory of her sopping pussy caused his cock to buck. Focus, Cowboy. You promised to help with these cakes if she came over.
He took a long breath through his suffering and followed her lead. Her delicate hands moved over his with tenderness. She strengthened her grip every time she wanted him to apply more pressure to guide his strokes. With her expert assistance, he was able to roll out four rounds.
“Think you got the hang of it?” she asked, moving away to cover the top cake layers.
“I might have paid enough attention to get one of these done.” He rolled another while she smoothed the fondant over the thick coating of butter cream for the cakes set out on the counter. “How’d I do?” he asked.
She straightened and smiled. “Not too bad for a cowboy.”
He observed her working with the precision and calm of a professional while she smoothed the cakes to perfection using circular motions. She whipped out a pizza cutter and made each cake tidy before stacking them in a variety of shapes.
“Is there rhyme or reason to setting them off center?” he asked.
She beamed at him. “You’ll see after they’re decorated. Can you get me the chocolate?”
He fetched the containers, sitting on a stool to watch her. She moved quickly and applied pieces of pre-formed shapes to the cakes. Each one took on its own personality. Flowers, sea creatures and stencils went along with dots and swirls, hearts and edible pearls. Finally, she sat back on her heels.
“Done.”
His brow rose. “Wow. I didn’t expect each one to look so different.”
Her smile was broad as she entwined her hands behind her back and bounced on her tip toes. “I gotta show off.”
Her passion carried in the air, infecting him with warmth. She’s made for this.
“Stand right there. Don’t move.” He whipped out his phone to snap a picture of her in the apron. He stood. “Let’s get a few for your portfolio.”
After angling pictures of each cake in the lighting with her standing next to the counter, he snapped photos of each one and sent them to the printer upstairs. “These will be great additions,” he said.
“Will you help me get the cakes in the fridge?” she asked.
“I’ll go get the cart.”
She used the cake lifter to transfer each piece onto the cart. After covering them for appropriate protection, he rolled them into the fridge. The attention to detail and level of speed she worked with settled a new found respect for her craft in him. He stared over all five originals with his hands on his hips, knowing the delicacy of the sponge beneath the beauty of her decorations. His baker deserved her Huffin Muffin dream.
“Wasn’t there a floor you were supposed to show me?” she asked from the doorway.
He pivoted to her. “Absolutely.”
Cyana brushed the sugar from her hands and removed her apron to set it on the counter. She could scent Asher standing behind her before she shifted to him. His gaze held a heavy sparkle.
“Come on.” His large hand wrapped her wrist with delicate pressure.
She couldn’t imagine him as a hitter. She squashed the unsettling thought and followed his stride. He smiled back at her when he opened the side door of the house kitchen. Excitement toyed in his two-tone gaze as he guided her. He unlocked
the stable kitchen door and stood next to the opening, raising his hand to allow her inside first.
He flipped the lights on. She stepped into the space. The gleam of stainless steel made her blink several times. “It’s complete.” She awed at the finished professional kitchen which replaced the stables. “Asher, you told me you prepped for the appliance delivery, not that the kitchen was done.”
He chuckled.
“Look at the floors.” She covered her opened mouth with both hands. “It’s more beautiful than I imagined.”
“What can I say? I had a hellava designer.”
She pivoted to him. “You can’t put this all on me.”
“Why not?” He approached her. “It was your idea.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
He shrugged before she spun away and took a few steps into the room. “You make floors like you make cake.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Beautiful.”
She leaned backwards into him. “You did the seal yourself?”
“Of course.”
“You’re so talented, Asher.”
He hummed a moan into the top of her hair and caressed his thumbs up her sides. “So are you. It takes talent to teach this here cowboy how to roll fondant.” His fingertips snuck under her waist length t-shirt.
“Asher,” she whispered his name.
“Mm. Working with you in front of me was torture. Can you imagine all of the thoughts I had to suppress?”
His fingers slid the rim of her jeans. He undid the button. She had to get home well before he wanted to let her go. He wouldn’t have her leaving him in the same tense knot she arrived in. Cyana moaned at his palm slipping down over her bare mound and into her folds. “Asher. Please.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I live to serve.”
Asher had her jeans stripped to the knees, her bra thrust to her upper chest and breasts dangling over the stainless steel island. He gripped the back of her neck while her palms were spread out to hold the weight of her upper body. He instructed her not to move and bumped her back and forth with his hip against the right round of her ass. The motion dragged the tips of her nipples along the chilly surface while his fingers worked her clit. She moaned at the icy sensation coupled with the heat and lightning of his touch between her thighs.
The strain of his cock pressed into her rear muscle. She whispered for it to fill her where his fingers fell shy. The torture of watching her response played out over the serious concentration on his face. The warnings in the back of her mind insisted she get away and not fall into the mix of his torment, but they were quiet at best. He kissed the back of her shoulder, melting her resistance.
This had to be wrong. Wrong to expose her heart to a stranger. Wrong to trust a man of proven violence. A criminal. She was giving in to him. Somewhere in her head she knew the severity of her decision. Nowhere in her heart did she care.
He nibbled her ear. “You feel so ready.”
“I am.” He stroked a circle against her clit. “A few more. Like that.”
A half-smile tugged his lips. “Yes, ma'am. But, you're not coming without me.” He righted his stance and took a step to the left. The heat of his naked cock brushed against her. She lifted her rear. His smooth fire parted her with a firm thrust. Her hands curl into fists. A cry left her throat. Her pussy twitched and clamped around his cock. The drag of his withdrawal arched her back and curled her toes inside her shoes while she sucked in a long breath. He plowed into her. She gave in to his firm thrust with flashes of light dancing behind closed lids.
“Damn Cyana, you’re better than I could have imagined,” Asher whispered.
17
Asher raised his hand and signaled for Cyana to join him at the kitchen island. She’d gone for a shower after he made certain she broke a thorough sweat. The kitchen counter surfaces sat empty, all the containers and baking equipment cleared. ”Where’d all the stuff go?” she asked.
“I cleaned it up and loaded the car for you in case we lost track of time.”
“Thanks. You really shouldn’t have done it all by yourself.” She drew closer to him. He had the Huffin Muffin portfolio spread out on the island. Cyana smiled, toying with her sleeve before joining him.
He shrugged. “Most of the containers were empty.” He coaxed her onto his lap, wrapping an arm around her. His hand settled on her thigh with a squeeze.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I hope you don’t mind but,” he opened the portfolio, “I took a deeper look and made some suggestions on your business plan.”
She noticed the writing in the margins.
“I also took the liberty of placing post-its on the existing photo pages with some suggestions you could incorporate into the designs.”
Warmth swelled in her chest. “Asher, you shouldn’t have.”
“Sh.” He placed his rough finger against her lips. “You’re my good deed. Remember?”
She smiled and averted her gaze. He removed his hand. “Must have been some demons you’re trying to get away from.”
“You have no idea.” He kissed her temple. “So, what do you think?”
She flipped a page and spotted one of his sticky notes on her photo. She opened her mouth to reply, but he pressed a second kiss into the side of her throat.
“Asher, you really make it hard for me to think when you do that.”
“I don’t want you to think.” He hugged her closer, nuzzled into the space between her neck and hair. “Just keep creating. Keep making wonderful.”
The noise of the front door opening stole her attention.
“You were expecting company?” she asked.
“Josh.” He ran the tip of his nose along her earlobe before kissing her neck.
“Asher!”
Asher’s body tensed. A strained curse left his lips at the female voice.
“Asher. There is the most atrocious piece of junk out in front of the Milway.” A tall slender blonde seemed to materialize in the doorway. “Oh my.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
“Where’s Josh?” Asher asked. His voice was hard and cold, nothing like what Cyana had come to know.
“Josh couldn’t make it.” The woman moved the hand to her hip. “I was sent in his place. I am the coordinator, you know.” She sashayed into the room wearing a blue gown. It hugged her from breasts to hips before it flowed to the ground in an array of shimmering aqua and green. It was early evening and she was dressed like she was going to dinner. She set her matching clutch on the kitchen island. Cyana tried to remember just who the coordinator was. Iona had mentioned she was a Wilmington, but Cyana was only half-listening through her panic.
“Is that how you greet your mother?”
Cyana stiffened on his lap. Mother. Asher's mother was a stunning woman for her age. Cyana could see the fine angles of her face echoed in the more masculine attractiveness of Asher's. The slightest of crow’s feet and thin smile lines around her mouth. Self-consciousness forced Cyana’s gaze to the countertop.
“Hello, Mother.” Asher said the words as flatly as he’d spoken before.
Tension crackled through the room. The kitchen’s atmosphere became heavy.
“Did you not hear what I said, Asher? There is a junk pile on wheels in front of the house. Whichever one of your wet backs is driving it needs to move it now? The photographer will be showing up any minute.”
“Photographer?” Asher leaned forward, his hard form pressed into Cyana’s back. She struggled to hold in her approving response to his closeness. “What photographer?”
“Frank Giselle, from Sweetly Bridal.”
“Giselle isn’t scheduled for another three days, Sally.”
“I had a coffee with him this morning and convinced him to photograph the house naked as my canvas so the subscribers of Sweetly Bridal could see the wonderful transformation it makes on the wedding day.” Sally peered around with a pinched expression. “Josh was right. You’ve done well making this nearly condemned trash heap into s
omething of an elegant model to work with.”
“If you invited Giselle this morning, why am I just now hearing about it?” Asher asked.
Sally sucked her teeth, dismissively waving her hand. “Oh, bother.”
“You schedule all visitations through me. That’s the way this works, Sally.”
“I didn’t think it would matter. I certainly would have called if I knew you were fraternizing with the help.” She wiggled her fingers at Cyana.
Cyana jolted into a straight-backed position as offense rocketed up her spine. Her movement shoved her backward into his heat. She caught a glimpse of Asher’s fist tightening on the countertop. His knuckles lightened with the intensity of the clutch. The air crackled around them. This man could certainly hit. And, right now, he wanted to.
“This one looks mixed. Does she at least speak English?” Sally scowled.
Cyana’s attention snapped to Asher’s face. His jaw twitched with the clenching of his teeth.
“Perfectly,” Asher said, his attention never leaving Sally. “Mother, meet Cyana, baking chef of Huffing Kitchen.” He gestured to Cyana, compelling her to lock gazes with Sally. The woman’s steel blues seemed to cut right through her. They were the same beautiful color as Josh’s, only cold and unwelcoming. “Cyana, this is Sally, interior decorator and wedding coordinator.”
Cyana stuck out her hand, her voice passed small. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Sally grasped her clutch from the counter and tugged it away from Cyana as she straightened her spine. “You can’t be serious.” She turned her nose up before presenting her back to Cyana’s courtesy. Asher’s arm yanked back. His hand gripped Cyana’s right hip. She could feel the corded ripple of the muscles in his legs as he suppressed the urge to spring from his seat. Sally’s heels clicked against the kitchen floor as she started for the door. “Have the junk heap in front of the house moved within ten minutes, Asher, or I’m having it towed.” She threw over her shoulder.
Asher let out a growl.
“I think I should go.” Cyana hopped off his lap, closed the portfolio and clutched it to her chest.
