When the timer buzzed, he put on two ridiculously large red oven mitts and pulled the tray of warm golden baklava from the oven while she removed the syrup from the flame. They moved in harmony as he placed the tray on the counter and she poured the sweet sticky syrup over the dessert. The air smelled of flowers and sugar, intoxicating and somehow familiar. Standing back to admire her work, she had to admit she wanted a bite, but she’d have to wait until it cooled. Besides, it was for customers.
While Braden cut the dessert into diamond-shaped pieces, she stuck her fingers in the pot, swiped some of the remaining stickiness from the sides, and licked her fingers, one at a time. She heard his sharp intake of breath and whipped her head around to find him staring at her with those same dark and hungry eyes he’d had earlier. She couldn’t deny him a taste.
She plunged her fingers back into the warm pot and coated them with the sticky icing then lifted them to the level of his mouth, offering him a taste. Of the syrup. Of her.
When he hesitated, she feared she’d made an error in judgment. But just as she began to withdraw her offer, he accepted with a firm grip of her wrist in his large hand. Their gazes locked.
He brought her hand closer to his mouth and slowly sucked her forefinger between his lips and grazed it from top to bottom with his hot tongue. Her heart banged against her chest in a wild staccato. She wanted him to be inside of her , albeit different body parts. The sweet torture of his mouth set her aflame as he leisurely explored each one of her fingers. She felt each swipe of his tongue as if it was exploring the folds between her thighs and she moaned, canting her hips up in a silent invitation. She suddenly needed to grind her pussy against him, needed to come.
Spurred on by her excitement and somehow reading her plea for help, he yanked her tight against the hardness between his legs and dipped his tongue into the webbing between her fingers. But she didn’t feel his tongue on her hand. It was directly on her clit. Sucking and licking and blowing.
She closed her eyes, tossed her head back, and exploded in climax. Her body shook so hard, she stumbled backwards. Braden caught her in his arms and held her against the solidness of his chest as she rode out the never-ending waves of orgasm.
When her body returned to something close to a normal state, she allowed her eyes to open. Braden whispered her name and rubbed her back, holding her tight. The rigid bulge poking into her reminded her he needed some attention as well. She let her fingers drift down his back—enjoying the contrast between his soft sweater and the hard muscles beneath it—bringing them to his ass where she softly squeezed. He removed the hair net from her head then cupped her chin, tilting it up and forcing her to look at him. His eyes darted from side to side, questioning; seeking permission. She hoped her eyes gave him her answer. He lowered his lips.
The overhead music system suddenly blared a Rhianna song, jarring them from their almost kiss. She jumped from his embrace just as Christopher entered the kitchen through the doors.
“Smells heavenly in here. You two have been busy this morning, huh?”
If he hadn’t interrupted, things would have gotten a whole lot busier. Saved by the proverbial Top-Forty hit.
CHAPTER 5
I see you what you are, you are too proud.
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night , act 1, scene 5
A few hours later, Braden watched Lola warm up with her band, her long, capable fingers stretched out on the nylon strings of her guitar. He leaned his forearms on the bar and dried a few shot glasses until he could practically see his reflection in them. She didn’t acknowledge him, but he sensed the magical connection still tethering the two of them. It glimmered and sparkled like the snow on a clear, sunny winter day. Her lavender fragrance drifted from the stage and