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“Yes, your back muscles are impressive.” I recall running my hands down his bare back, feeling the ripple of muscle there while he thrusted inside me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to refocus on our conversation. “What else?”
“Playing tennis with the guys.” He thinks a moment, a cocky grin pulling at his lips. “Eating your pussy is starting to become one of my favorite past times.”
“That’s not a hobby.” I give him a playful shove. “Seriously.”
“Okay, but you’re going to laugh.”
My eyes light with amusement. “You think I’ll laugh? Oh my God, what is it? I’m dying to know.”
I’m trying to think of comical hobbies, imagining Hunter trying to balance on stilts, or his arms flailing about on a unicycle. A pair of binoculars around his neck while he bird watches in Central Park. Even those images aren’t humorous. Hunter could make soap carving appear sexy.
Maybe he reads romance novels in his spare time. That’s not funny, it’s hot. And would explain so much about his knowledge and skills in the bedroom.
“I like having the Food Network on while I work, as background noise.”
“Okay.” The thought of Hunter working while shows likeGuy’s Grocery GamesandChoppedplay in the background makes me smile, but it’s not the scandalous sensation he’s made it sound like.
“Around the holidays a few years ago, I started watching those cookie decorating shows. Then, I wondered how hard it could be, so I got a kit from a bakery that was selling them and tried it.”
“And?” My eyes are wide wondering how Hunter’s cookie decorating attempt went.
“It was fucking hard.” He laughs. I love watching his smile as he thinks of the memory. “The cookies looked like they’d been decorated by a four-year-old.” He spreads his hands. “And I may not be giving four-year-olds enough credit. I had icing everywhere. It was embarrassing.”
“That’s okay. At least you tried.” I pat his thigh, doing my best to ignore the way his muscles flex beneath my palm.
“Yeah, I did. And I was determined to get better. I started practicing my flooding technique, working on a steady hand to pipe details. It became a challenge. And the better I got, the more calming the art of cookie decorating became.”
“Wait. So, you’re good at cookie decorating now?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone and opens his photos. There he shows me some decorated sugar cookies. There’s even a time lapse video for one. I know it’s him. I’d recognize those hands anywhere.
“Wow.” I take his phone to get a better look. “This is impressive.”
He lifts a shoulder. “I like to do it when I’m stressed about work. The focus it takes helps distract me. It lets my brain shift into a different mode.” He scrolls back in his photos.
Staring at Hunter, my smile is a mile wide.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks.
“Because you’re cute.”
“Cute?” Hunter lifts his brows.
“Yeah.” I lean forward and kiss him. It’s a light peck on the lips. He presses forward, but I pull back. “Baking is manly. Griffin makes the best blueberry scones. They’re so light in the middle and crunchy outside. Oh, and when I was growing up, he’d make happy face pancakes every Sunday.”
“Happy face pancakes?” he repeats, a quizzical look on his face.
“Pancakes with a face. You know, bacon mouth, strawberry nose, and blueberry eyes. And then whipped cream hair at the top.”
He smiles. “I’ve never heard of those.”
“It was our tradition.Isour tradition,” I correct, “but we don’t make them as often now.”
I sigh, thinking how busy the last few months have been for both me and Griffin.
Hunter’s hand runs over my forearm, drawing my attention back to him.
“How do you spend your free time?” he asks.
