Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(38)

She pushes open the kitchen door and my smile freezes as I catch sight of her handiwork. On top of each swirl of frosting there’s a little figure. I bend closer, fascinated. On one there’s a motorcycle helmet, on another the words Harley-Davidson is stuck into the frosting like a flag. And on others she’s created tiny Viking inspired images.

“You like?” There’s an odd note in her voice, as though she’s not sure what I make of it.

“You made all this?” I jab my finger at the helmet because cake is one thing but the toppings are real unexpected and works of art in their own right.

“Yes. That’s my specialty, making customized edible cake toppers.”

I take her hands and tug her toward me. I’ve had enough of her messing about. “When’re you opening your first shop?”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“Only because I’ve seen what you can do.”

“I can’t do anything before Christmas. But next year I’m just going for it. At least if it fails I can say I tried, right?”

“You won’t fail.”

“No. I won’t.” Her smile does something weird deep inside my chest. “You should be a motivational speaker.”

“That’s a new one.” I can’t help my derisive tone, even though her comment makes me grin.

“Well, you motivated me. Obviously it was fate that made my car break down that night so we could meet. Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?”

Does she expect an answer? I don’t talk about fate and shit like that, although since meeting her I’ve had all kinds of conversations I never thought I would with a girl. “Yeah.” I feel more is needed although I’m not sure why. “Must be destiny or something.”

“Yes.” She squeezes my hands. “I’ve just had the best idea. That’s what I’m going to call my shop. Must be Destiny.”

It sounds like a weird-ass name to call a cupcake shop, but strangely, it also feels right. “Invite me to the opening.”

I don’t know where that came from. It’s a commitment, with me looking into a future where she’s still with me, but it feels right, too.

“Of course I’ll invite you. You’re the only one’s who’s ever taken me seriously about this.”

It’s crazy that with her background she can say that to me and mean it. I bury my face in her hair. She smells of her usual flowers, but there’s also a hint of spices and pumpkin cake, and I want to f*ck her and eat her, but most of all I don’t want to let her go.

She kisses my neck, using her teeth and tongue, and I don’t protest as she slowly slides my cut over my shoulders and drapes it over the counter. As if we have all the time in the world, she tugs my tee from my jeans and eases it over my head before tossing it onto the floor.

There’s a hundred jobs waiting for me downstairs, but no way am I moving. And Kat’s at work for another couple of hours so we won’t be interrupted.

With a sigh she runs her hands over my pecs and down my abs, and hooks her fingers into the waist of my jeans. “Your body is perfection.”

I grin and pull her hair free from its band. “Yeah, I’m God’s gift. Aren’t you the lucky one.”

“Gorgeous, and modest with it.” She unbuckles my belt. “Plus, tattoos.”

“The whole package.” I flex my biceps and strike a pose. “You wanna take photos?”

She laughs and feels up my biceps. “So hard,” she says in a breathy voice. “Like rock.”

“They’re not the only part of me that’s rock hard.”

“By rights, I shouldn’t be able to walk straight with all the sex I’ve had since meeting you.”

“You’re not walking straight, princess. Didn’t I tell you?” I leer at her, but it’s strange because while I’ve always enjoyed casual hookups, I’ve never had as much sex in such a short space of time as I have with Grace.

“Ouch.” She steps back and slowly tugs the big bow at the back of her apron free while she sways her hips, like she’s doing a strip show. “You’ll pay for that.”

I kick off my boots and shuck my jeans. “I’m counting on it.”

Her gaze slips to my junk and she licks her lips. It’s like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it, and it’s so damn sexy I pull her toward me and kiss her as though I’ll die if I don’t.

Somehow we manage to tear off that insane apron without breaking mouth contact and then she wriggles out of her dress and it drops to the floor. She tastes so good, spicy and hot, and I tuck my fingers into the back of her sexy underwear and push it over her thighs.

Her skin is so soft against my cock, and I growl deep in my throat. I want to ride her bareback, feel every silky inch of her squeeze my dick as she falls apart around me. I plunge my hands through her hair and force her to look at me, but it doesn’t help. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, and her eyes are dark with need, and her hair tumbles through my fingers and over her face.

She unhooks her bra and it dangles from her finger. “Sex in the kitchen is so unhygienic.”

“Better than a pool table.” I pull her into my arms and back up against the refrigerator. “Maybe not as good as on the hood of a Merc.”