Chapter 180
He doesn’t let me.
In three strides, he’s behind me, his hands on either side of the counter, caging me in. “Missed you.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I wasn’t done saying it.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “You’re being clingy.”
“You love it when I’m clingy.”
I roll my eyes and start wiping down the counter. “I love it when you don’t get in my way while I’m working.”
He leans in, lips brushing just behind my ear. “Liar.”
I freeze.
God, I hate him.
And by hate I mean: want to turn around and climb him like a tree.
I turn around and press a hand to his chest to keep some kind of distance, but he just leans into it. “You’re really standing in a bakery, during business hours, trying to seduce me?”
He smiles, slow and smug. “Technically, you’re closed. Also, your hands smell like vanilla. I’m barely hanging on here.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
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Chapter 180
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“You’re so beautiful, love.”
That one catches me off guard. My heart skips like I’m still seventeen and not used to this man’s mouth.
He watches me quietly, all that cheeky confidence flickering into something softer. “I thought about you every day. All week. I’d sleep and wake up missing you. And now you’re right here, and you smell like sugar and I want to kiss you until you forget what you were baking.”
I stare at him.
He waits.
“You’re not allowed to say stuff like that when I’m covered in flour and look like a frizzed–up lunch lady.”
“You’re not allowed to look like this and expect me not to be feral about it.”
I finally laugh. “You’re insane.”
He dips his head until our noses brush. “Only for you.”
And then he kisses me
–
warm and unhurried, like he’s not going anywhere, like we’ve got all the time in the world. One hand curls around my waist, pulling me close, the other brushing flour off my cheek with the kind of care that makes my knees weak.
And just like that, I’m gone. Melted straight into him, no resistance, no hesitation. All the wall’s I built in five lonely days dissolve in a second.
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips still barely grazing mine.
“Let me take you out tonight,” he murmurs. “Just you and me. One of
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those places with wine we can’t pronounce and menus without prices.” His mouth tilts into a grin. “Maybe that little black dress I got you.”
My brain tries to find a reason to say no I have batter in my hair, I’m still technically at work, Cam was just sitting five feet away shovelling cinnamon rolls into his mouth a few moments ago – but then his fingers brush over my wrist, toying with the bracelet he gave me.
He doesn’t say anything about it. Just traces the inside like he’s reminding me it’s there. Like he knows I noticed the tiny engraved initials this morning.
I’m almost certain now there’s a matching one on him. I just haven’t found it yet.
“You realise that dress is barely appropriate for anywhere public, right?“.
“Exactly,” he says, voice lower. “Perfect.”
–
Then he kisses me again – deeper this time, slower, until my knees forget how to function and my hands have to grip the front of his hoodie just to stay upright.
When he finally pulls back, I’m flushed and breathless and maybe a little in love with the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing he
wants.
“Wear it anyway.”
EMILIA
Apparently, my boyfriend has me wrapped around his finger like a damn joystick. All he has to do is press the right buttons – say the right things with those dimples that should be illegal – and I’m gone. Driving to his place when I should be working. Wearing a dress that
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feels more like a suggestion than an outfit.
Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic. But still.
—
–
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We’re in a cab now – heading to his apartment – and for some reason, it reminds me of our horse ride in Mackinac. The way he kept glancing at me like I was the view. He’s doing the same thing now, except he’s also trying to pretend he’s listening to the cab driver ramble about the game. A fan, clearly. I’m mildly impressed Liam hasn’t ducked into a hoodie and sunglasses like he usually does.
I lean into his side without thinking, tugging at the hem of his hoodie.
He looks down instantly. Of course he does. His attention was already halfway on me — it always is. His arm curls tighter around my shoulders, pulling me flush against him.
—
“Hm?” he hums, low and distracted – like I’ve just interrupted a thought he didn’t mind losing.
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