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He stood before me, his eyes roaming my body as he roughly pulled off my pants. Then he bent down, and I closed my eyes, feeling his lips as he placed a kiss right below my navel. Then I heard the clink of his belt as his pants hit the floor, and felt him climb onto the bed, his hands resting on either side of my head. He held his body above me; the only part I could feel of him was his hardened cock pressing into me as he bent and met my lips.
* * *
I opened my eyes. The room was still dark, and I stretched. My body ached in places that it hadn’t in a long time. I felt lighter than I had in years, and I smiled to myself as I pulled the blankets up around me. Last night had been incredible and I hadn’t wanted it to end. I rolled over to see Tristan, sound asleep on his stomach. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I carefully climbed out of bed and pulled the door shut behind me, making my way to the kitchen.
Today was the day of the competition, and I sat down with a hot cup of coffee and went over my recipe for my cinnamon buns. As I was reading, my mind kept traveling to what had happened last night. Things between Tristan and I had taken a turn, and they had been for a while now. Tristan was no longer the ass I’d gone to school with. In fact, over the past week, he’d been the one to save my business. I knew, deep down, that without him, I would have had to close for the holidays.
It had been a rocky start, but eventually, he’d cleaned up his act, and in that time, I’d come to know the real him, and I liked what I saw. Something I never could see happening, but he’d changed in the time he’d been here. He’d shared with me over the time he’d been here how unhappy he was at his current job. Although it wouldn’t have been hard to tell, since he seemed happier here. Willow Valley seemed to be good for him. He’d made friends in this town, and over the past few days that I’d been back at work I’d noticed that. I’d also noticed that we made a good team. I wasn’t sure that he saw it though.
I got up, taking my coffee over to the counter, and began pulling bowls from the cupboard. I had planned on dropping from the contest, but after some thought, it wasn’t in me to do that. So, this morning I was going to make these cinnamon buns.
I’d just dumped the flour into the bowl when I heard a noise behind me. I was about to turn around when I felt warm hands slide over my belly and the heat from Tristan’s body envelope me from behind.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep. “What are you doing up already?”
I closed my eyes and welcomed the kiss he’d placed on my neck. “Baking for the competition,” I murmured, my voice shaky.
“I see. I’d rather hoped you’d still be in bed,” he said, his hands traveling under my over-sized shirt. My body was instantly on fire as his fingers danced along my panty line.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I closed my eyes and relished in his touch. “Figured you could use the sleep.”
The man had surprised me. I’d never have thought he’d have been this kind of lover. I’d have expected him to be more like he was in his day-to-day life. But he’d surprised me with his tender kisses and gentle touch.
“I see,” he whispered between each kiss he’d placed on my neck. “Maybe I’ll help you,” he said, biting my earlobe.
My body shook. “What…what would the magazine think? You helping the contestant,” I said in a low voice.
“Shhhh, no one needs to know.” His breath tickled my ear as chills ran through me as his lips met mine.
He rested his hands on my hips and stood behind me. “Let’s get these made,” he said, taking on a serious tone.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you going to stand behind me just like this the entire time?” I questioned.
He gave me a mischievous smile and nodded his head. “Let’s go. Can she concentrate enough?” He laughed.
“All right,” I said, my cheeks heating.
Soon, I had the dough completely mixed in the bowl and began kneading and rolling it out. Once that was finished, Tristan helped me with the butter and sugar filling, each of us taking turns to cover the dough with it, then I began rolling them up and cutting each one into a perfect-sized bun and placing them in the pan to rise.
I’d just covered it with a cloth and set it on the back of the stove when I turned around. Tristan stood there, the bowl that had held the cinnamon sugar mixture in his hand, watching me.
“What?” I questioned.
“How long will those take to rise?” he asked.
“Probably an hour or so?” I shrugged.
“I see,” he said, looking down to the remainder of the contents in the bowl.
I could see that he was thinking of something as he swirled his finger through the leftover butter, cinnamon, and sugar mixture. Then he brought his finger up to his mouth. He didn’t say anything. Instead, after he’d licked his finger clean, he swirled it back through the mixture and brought his finger to my lips. When I didn’t move, he gently rubbed his finger against my lips, and then brought his mouth to mine, sucking the sweet mixture into his mouth.
“You taste really good.” He chuckled, taking my mouth again.
* * *
Wrapped in my bathrobe and nothing else, I slid the risen cinnamon buns into the oven while Tristan plated breakfast.
“What time are you heading down to the community center?” I questioned.
