Make It Sweet

by Kristen Callihan

I was so gone on this man. It wasn’t even funny.

His narrowed gaze said as much. But he didn’t bolt. No, he stared me down with those stern eyes. “I’m certainly not going to stop you. But be forewarned, Brommy and Anton are out here somewhere.” Clever Lucian. Now, if I followed through with my teasing threat, I would be saying that I didn’t mind anyone seeing me. If I didn’t, I was making it clear that I wanted only him to see me that way.

Resting my elbows on the edge of the pool, I slowly treaded water with my legs. “Why don’t you join me?” “I’m not skinny-dipping with you, Snoopy.” His smile was brief but wide. “Like I said, Brommy and Anton are out and about.” “And you don’t want them seeing you naked,” I said, as if this made perfect sense. “I’m very shy.” “Sure you are.”

I eyed him up and down, enjoying the way he tried so hard not to fidget. “Stop dithering, and get in.” Lucian scowled. “Bossy.”

But he stripped off his shirt, which was every bit as hot as the last time he’d done it—more, really, because now I got to witness it up close and in full detail.

Lucian immediately jerked back, keeping the distance equal between us. “Didn’t take you for a night swimmer.” I moved forward again slowly. “You made it look so good; I thought I’d try.” It was too dark to tell, but I could have sworn he blushed. But then his eyes narrowed. “You’re flirting.” “Am I?” I totally was. I couldn’t help it;

Lucian was kind of adorable when he reacted to my blatant attempts as though confused but intrigued. So often, he unbalanced me with his cool authority. It was satisfying to return the favor.

“You’re not trying to make me feel better about myself, are you?” I paused, floating there, my heart squeezing tight. “I’m flirting with you because I enjoy it. I never know what you’ll say, and it usually makes me laugh.” “Ah. I’m to play the role of jester.”

“Are you deliberately trying to tick me off? Do you want me to go?” His eyes glinted. “I don’t want you to go.” “So you’re trying to annoy me.” His chuckle was warm and sent little flutters of pleasure through my insides. “Just keeping you on your toes, Em.”

That I could work with. I shot forward, ready to swim, and he darted aside like he thought I might jump him. I rolled my eyes, swimming around him in a lazy circle. “You’re kind of twitchy tonight.” “...

“Don’t be such a prude.” “If you knew what was running through my mind, you’d never accuse me of being a prude.” My heart skipped another beat, and I found myself treading water again. “Do tell.”

Something had changed—he wasn’t twitchy. He was resolved, closing in until there was barely a foot between us. Water glinted over the strong planes of his face, making those expressive, firm lips wet. I wanted to lick them, wrap myself around his strong, hard body, and hold on.

“Em, if you’re naked in front of me, there’s going to be touching.” Yes, please. Now would be good. “Pretty presumptuous of you, honey pie.” Lucian, the rat bastard, smiled, those hot eyes intent on my face. “Who said it had to be you I’m touching?” “What?” I could barely think. His nearness was making me light headed. “I’m not above taking matters into my own hand, if that’s the only option.” I pictured him handling all that . . . girth. The bottom dropped out of me.

His voice dropped a register. “You gonna give me one?”

Lucian groaned, the sound almost animal. I arched my back in response, pulled by his need, my bared breast coming closer to the wall of his chest. I wanted to feel his skin on mine. But he didn’t move. He gripped the edge tighter, his body working with heaving pants. “Fuck,” he whispered. His pale gaze flicked to mine, a furrow knitting between his brows. “I want a taste. Please. God. Please, Em.”

“Just a taste,” he said, as if to hold himself to that. I whimpered, and his hot gaze snared with mine.

I couldn’t regret teasing Lucian to the point where he turned the tables on me. But I would definitely think twice about engaging that way again. Not when he apparently regretted his moment of weakness.

I stayed away from her and hung out with Brommy. I managed it for two days. And I missed her.

It had become both a challenge and intensely satisfying to come up with new ways to tempt and pleasure Emma. Feeding Emma somehow fed my soul as well.

But there was something about Emma Maron that reverted me right back to the awkward, bumbling geek I’d been in middle school.

Mamie hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said I was small as a kid. Small and shy. When I wasn’t on the ice, I was the guy most likely to hide away. Hockey had changed me into someone cocky, outgoing, fun loving. I liked that version of myself, but now that hockey was over, I realized that part of me was a role I’d been playing.

I wasn’t sure who the real me was anymore, but I knew I wasn’t prepared to march up to Emma’s...

It was my fault for pushing, flirting when he was obviously resisting. Then again, he was the one who’d taken it so far I still shivered when I thought about him drawing closer, his gaze on my mouth like he wanted to devour it. Devour me.

That little bee nibbling on her honey pie.

This was his work, made with his hands, his skill, his mind. My grumpy man with the ability to create sweetness in the most unexpected of ways.

Somehow, at the back of my mind, I’d known from the start. From the way he’d all but ordered me to try his brest. How he’d watched me eat it with that strange intent look upon his face. Pride. That was what it was. He was proud of his work.

He didn’t notice me, which was what I’d intended, given that I knew the weasel would only pretend he was dropping the stuff off for the “chef” of the house if he saw me now.

I didn’t even know it was my kink. Maybe Lucian made it so.

“Maybe I should be calling you Renaissance man. Tell me, Brick, do you paint too?” He rested a big long-fingered hand on the marble countertop. The muscles along his arm shifted as he leaned in a touch. “Yes, but only on pâtisseries.” Oh hell, he said it in French, with an accent that sounded like sultry sex. My breath hitched. And he noticed.

“It felt too personal. Like I was exposing too much of myself.” “I can see that.” He was an artist. I’d felt his care and thoughtfulness in every bite he’d created. But more than that, it showed in the way his pastries looked, the way he presented them.

He shifted his weight, going twitchy in that way of his that meant he was gearing up to be defensive, to close himself off in his own protective world. You can let me in. I won’t hurt you.

The corners of his eyes creased in quiet humor. “Mamie wasn’t exaggerating when she said I was small as a kid. Scrawny, really. And shy.” “You?” I teased. But I could see it. There was something about Lucian that would always be reserved. He shot me a sidelong look, but his lips curled.

Even so, I couldn’t deny the contentment I felt in sharing his precious workspace. He outright chased everyone else out of his kitchen when he was in it. Only Amalie, and sometimes Tina, got away with a quick visit, but even they would be gently eased out the door after a minute or two.

“Why is it that I’m called Snoopy, when you’re nosy as hell?” “I’m only nosy about you. You’re snoopy with everyone.” My stomach fluttered at the confession that he only wanted to know more about me.

He was teasing, clearly wanting to make me blush and stammer. But I couldn’t erase the image of licking cream off every delectable inch of him. God, I wanted that. So much so my mouth was in danger of watering. I returned his look with equal measure. “Careful there, honey pie. One day, I just might call your bluff on all your thinly veiled cream innuendos.” To my surprise, he flushed a dusky pink across the high crests of his cheeks.

I wanted something real, someone I could trust, and for all that I liked Lucian, I didn’t know if he was the one to give me that.

I was being closed off all over again, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

A woman alone at a wedding is a target for ten million questions, none of them good. I’d rather have a wall of big snarly man mountain guarding over me.” She needs you. Say yes, you idiot.

One of her brows arched delicately. “You want me to ask Brommy?” My shoulders sagged in defeat. “No.” “Hmm.”

In deference to Emma’s exceptional driving skills and my propensity to get a migraine when driving for more than an hour, she was behind the wheel, and I was comfortably slumped in the passenger seat. Did I prefer to be the one driving? Actually, no. This way I had the perfect excuse to watch Emma as long as I wanted. It was a better view than the Pacific coast outside my window. By far.

My hackles raised so fast it was a miracle I didn’t snarl. The thought of her being harassed made me want to tear things with my bare hands.

I knew, however, she was trying to protect me. It was a strange sensation, having someone read me so well. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or if I was afraid I’d never get it back when she drifted out of my life. Either way, Saint got the message and stepped back to let us farther into the airy front hall of the house.

“Luc is fine.” I said it automatically, having been called Luc for most of my adult life. But I noticed Emma stiffen at my side—because she’d called me Lucian. I didn’t look her way. Not now, with her protectors hovering in front of us.

Through a daze I heard Delilah and Emma talking, Delilah telling us to make ourselves comfortable. On the bed? The one fucking bed?

I absolutely knew what was upsetting him, and I kind of loved that he was a Grumpy Gus half the time, but I would never stop giving him shit about it.

Would he do it? Would he drop all his walls and blockades and give me relief from this relentless wanting? Or would he give me that look that said he thought I was ridiculous and then flee the room?

He was giving me a look now, cautious but considering. Exactly what he was considering, I didn’t know. And that was the maddening part.

All of it without breaking a sweat. In truth, when he had sat down at my side just as the ceremony started, he’d appeared both pleased and relaxed.

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about me,” Lucian said at my ear, making me jump. “For such a big man, you walk on cat feet,” I grumped.

“Which is why I made some of these with vanilla-ginger cream.” Had I been gaping before? My mouth fell wide open. Behind me, I heard Dougal sigh, as if impressed. But I could only stare at Lucian, who looked smug but oddly shy as well. “You did that for me?” I croaked.