Page 89 of Crack the Ice

A wrinkle forms in the middle of her brow. “Are you firing me?”

My eyes fall to my shoes, toes curling into the floor. “I think that it might not be the best idea for us to work together. There’s so much instability going on at home, too. I don’t know how to act with these kids yet. We’re not on a schedule, and my head is a mess. I need to be at peace when I’m here. I’m not right now.”

“So I’m losing you anyway.” Her scoff is loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. “Great.” She stomps back through the kitchen doors, leaving Mav and me encased in silence.

The kitchen smells of cinnamon and apples. My eyes snag on the timer: twenty minutes left. Some of the anxiety bleeds out of me when I realize I haven’t burnt it and I’m not going to have to start all over at the risk of breaking a twelve-year-old’s heart. But I don’t know how to do what Lana does, and that amps the stress right back up. Maybe Hannah knows someone, or Mandy. She’s got a business degree.

“Breathe, Baby.” His hands run up and down the outside of my arms. I didn’t realize I’d stopped, but the rough inhale that comes from his words makes me lightheaded.

“Sorry, that was intense.” I breathe out, letting my head fall forward a bit before looking back at him. “Why are you here?”

“I didn’t want you to be stressed all day. I had time before my appointment. Figured I’d stop by.” He looks around the kitchen, pausing when he gets to the discarded pie toppings. “Glad I did.”

I run my hands up his chest until I can wrap them around the back of his neck. Pressing up on my toes, I press a kiss to his throat. “Me too.”

I push away, going to check the pie, but swaying my hips a little extra as I go. “Though I’m still mad at you.”

“That so?” he asks, leaning back against the prep table, crossing one ankle over the other with that panty-soaking smirk plastered on his face.

“Mhm.” I close the oven doors and turn back toward him. “What time is this party?”

“Seven, why?”

I hum, letting the vibration travel from my lips through my belly, then heading straight south. “I might make you sit on your bed and listen while I get off with my favorite vibrator through the wall. You know, as a thank you for your little stunt this morning.”

His jaw falls open, cheeks taking on a pinkish hue, and God, what I wouldn’t do to be the one who put it there on another occasion. He moves faster than my brain can register, turning and caging me in against the prep table.

“No,” he growls. “You get yourself off in our home, and I don’t even get to watch…” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Baby, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Our home. A shiver rolls through me even though my blood feels like it’s on fire. “What if I bring it here then, hmm?” I tilt my head to the side, loving the way his eyes dilate in real time. “Have a little midday break in my office. Maybe I should visit you at work. I’ve always wanted to play in the locker room.”

“I remember,” he growls. “I remember every fantasy you told me back then, and I’ll make every one of them reality at some point.”

“Oh really?” I hike a brow. “You’re going to let me tie you up and ride you until you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes.”

“What about the one where I eat chocolate-covered strawberries off you?”

“Baby, I’m going to cover you in frosting one of these days, and lick it up so slowly that you’re on the brink of tears, begging me to put you out of your misery.”

“Mav,” I whine. “You’re the worst.”

“Promise me you’re not going to play in this bakery while I’m not here.” His eyes are nearly black at this point.

I roll my lips together, doing my best to keep it together, but ultimately, I’m reduced to a wheezing laugh.

“Mav,” I swat at his chest. “That’s so unsanitary. If I’m going to have to disinfect the entire bakery, you’re going to have to be part of the mess.”

“Done.” He doesn’t give me time to say anything else before his lips are slanting over mine. The feel of his fingers as they drag across my scalp before they tangle into my hair has me turning to putty as he kisses me senseless.

My hands cup his face as he effortlessly lifts me onto the prep table. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I lose every bit of self-control. Did I ever have any around this man?

His calloused hand sneaks under my tank, running along the ridges of my ribs. I arch into his touch, teeth biting down into his lower lip, trapping it until his eyes fly open to meet mine. The second they do, he groans. Heavy-lidded, predatory eyes on the man hovering above me are my favorite. I love the chase. I want him to come and get me. Take me completely, get me out of my head for five minutes.

Before either of us can do anything else, the door swings open again. A high-pitched squeak followed by at least six “sorrys” fills the room. I bury my head in his chest, cheeks flaming over the fact that we probably scandalized my high school employee.

“It’s okay, Charlotte. We shouldn’t be doing this here, anyway.” I shoot him a pointed look, and the asshole has the audacity to laugh. Again.