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But I understood it better now.
“So you would be totally fine if we just stripped here, and had sex in the cake again,” Zed said, watching me.
“Oh, yeah. Go ahead.” I waved my fork.
Honestly, the idea made my whole damned body ache. It had been too long since we’d been together, and I knew that. But with Stewart’s damned words haunting me, I didn’t feel sexy. I didn’t feel horny. I just felt sort of… unattractive.
It was stupid, and I knew it was. Zed kissed and touched me every chance he got.
But Zed’s opinion was skewed.
And what if I really wasn’t good?
He stood up, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.
His jeans were on the floor soon after, and his underwear joined them almost instantly. He’d already been barefoot, which was sexy enough. Completely naked, he had me drooling like my mouth was a damn waterfall.
It had definitely been too long since we’d had sex.
“Your turn,” he told me.
There was a dare in his eyes, a challenge.
He didn’t believe I would strip.
I didn’t want to have sex, but I wasn’t going to lose the challenge, either.
Standing swiftly, I dropped my fork on the table and took a few steps back, stripping every piece of my clothing off and tossing it in a pile of its own.
“There you go.” I spread my arms out wide. “Can I eat my cake now?”
“You agreed to sex in the cake.”
Damn him.
“Right. Forgot,” I drawled.
He knew he had me.
I didn’t think he knew why, though. If he had, he would’ve tried to make me not care, or tried to convince me that Stewart was wrong. And I was confident that Stewart had been telling the truth, so I didn’t want Zed trying to convince me to believe a lie.
And… I was still embarrassed about it.
Reallyembarrassed about it.
I padded over to Zed, and his hands found my hips before he lifted me up onto the counter, my bare ass only a couple inches from the cake.
His hand slipped around the back of my head, and tilted me up toward him. Our lips met, and the kiss was soft, slow, and searing.
It slowly grew hotter, and hotter.
His hands moved over my back, over my hips, over my tits.
But when they made it between my thighs, I pulled away, panting for air. “Dammit, stop.” I groaned, tilting my head backward. My hair probably brushed the cake, but I had bigger problems.
“Did I do something to piss you off? Was the sex not good for you, before?” he asked, his hands on both sides of my thighs. “You’ve got to talk to me about this shit, June. I thought it was Stewart at first, and gave you space, but you haven’t mentioned him so I’ve got to assume I screwed up somehow. Tell me how to fix it, and I will.”
The frustration on his face was heavy enough that guilt crushed me in the damn chest. “You’re going to tell me that I shouldn’t care, and that it’s ridiculous,” I shot back.
