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“No.” I curl a little tighter against him and he chuckles, reaching up with his other hand to brush the hair out of my face.
“How long have you wanted to bake?” he asks after we catch our breath.
“For as long as I can remember,” I tell him, continuing to stroke his soft skin. “I was always in the kitchen with my mom, begging her to let me help. Then when I was older, I was the friend who always brought dessert to every party.” I smile against his chest, thinking about all the different cakes, cookies, and pies I made over the years. “I wanted to make people happy with a single bite.”
He scratches my back and I curl into it. “I get happy with one bite.”
“Yeah, I know.” I laugh.
“Did you go to culinary school?”
“No. I have a degree in business with a focus on marketing.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, why? You can’t see me as a business girl?”
“Of course I can. I’m picturing you in a sexy business suit right now, commanding a boardroom of men, making them bend to your will. And damn, sugar,” he muses, his nails raking down my spine.
“Tyler,” I say through a laugh.
“And while that’s a sexy image, I just know you’re at home in the kitchen. I’ve seen you when you’re baking. You’re in your element. You’re happy.”
“I am. I know it’s where I belong. I went to college to have the experience, and I knew that if I was ever able to have my own bakery, I wanted to be competent and know how to run it on more than just my dreams.”
“You’re so smart.” He runs his fingers down my back. “And beautiful.” He swirls his fingers around my lower back. “And an excellent baker. The best I’ve ever tasted.” He runs his fingers back up my spine, and I smile against his chest, loving the playfulness in his voice.
“Good to know.”
“You should also know I’m hoping you’ll give me all the free dessert I want now.”
Laughing, I prop myself up on his chest. “You think you get free dessert because I let you see me naked?”
His boyish smile has his blue eyes sparkling, and with his dimples so close, I have the sudden desire to pour wine in them and suck it out.
“I do. You can’t deny I’ve earned it.” He cups my ass and squeezes.
I bite my lip to hold back a moan. “Maybe,” I whisper, tracing the outside of his lips. “Why did you become a firefighter?”
I lay back down on his chest to hear more of his voice. I want to memorize the sound.
“Well, it started when I was a kid. I was obsessed with them. Every Halloween, I insisted on being one, and every birthday and Christmas I would ask for a Dalmatian. I thought you couldn’t be a fireman without one.” He smiles. “Then as a teenager, the obsession turned into respect, and I wanted to be someone people respected.” His fingers continue to swirl around my back absentmindedly. “People see me as the joke of the family. The one brother who doesn’t take life seriously, think about the future, or have anything on his mind but women.”
“They just see your pretty smile and easy-going attitude as you not caring about anything.” I’m sad to admit that I thought that too when I first met him.
“I take shit seriously, though,” he tells me, as if I don’t already know that.
I lean up on my elbow again so he can see my eyes when I tell him, “Tyler, you don’t have to prove that to me. I already know. I know you’re more than your pretty face, smile, and hot bod.”
Flashing me a sexy grin, he pulls me down to his lips, kissing me hard and quick.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my lips. “Your opinion matters to me.”
“It does?”
“I won’t lie to you, whatever Ally or Ashley may have told you about me is probably true, but I’ve always shown you me.”
“And what might have been said about you?” I challenge.
