Make It Sweet

by Kristen Callihan

I sputtered out a shocked laugh, and my face flamed, but as he’d commanded, I opened my mouth. Lucian’s nostrils flared. His hand shook a little as he lifted the cream puff and placed it on the edge of my lips. I opened my mouth wider, my tongue flicking out for that first sweet taste.

He paused and lifted his dark, thick brows in inquiry. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Because I want you. I dragged a fingertip through an errant drop of cream on the plate and licked it up, enjoying the way he watched with intense interest. “Can’t be helped, Brick. You really wear that suit.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was embarrassed by the praise. His voice came out in a rough rumble.

I didn’t know what to do around him either. Jumping on his lap and begging him to feed me more cream puffs felt like the best option.

“Thing is, the more I get to know you, the more beautiful you are to me.” Oh. Hell.

“I like who you are, Em,” he said, as though the confession was torn from him, and he didn’t quite want it to be. But he didn’t blink, didn’t flinch as my lips parted with surprise. I swallowed thickly.

At that, Lucian turned his head, giving me his fierce profile. He was clearly as uncomfortable with praise as I was. Too bad. He needed it. Needed to know that he had value. But we’d been spotted, and our delicate privacy was broken as Delilah walked over.

Lucian slid me a look of reproach, but he didn’t seem truly put out, more like surprised I was puffing him up.

“Somehow I don’t think you’d be intimidated by critics.” Lucian shrugged. “People either like my food, or they don’t. It’s not my problem.” “Exactly,” she cried out with a little laugh. “You’re a brawler. I need that.”

But would you consider looking over my menu plans and see if it stirs any creative interest for you?” Lucian blinked, clearly surprised at her fervor. I wasn’t. I’d spent time with Delilah and knew she was passionate about cooking and food. It wasn’t a leap to see that she’d be excited to meet someone with the same sort of talent and passion for food.

The funny thing was that Lucian didn’t seem to understand how much of himself he revealed through his work. Delilah was right; he was a fighter. But he was also a thoughtful artist who evoked emotions through his food. His dishes were sensual in a way I didn’t think he realized.

His simple acceptance made me feel small instead of relieved.

Even so, the memory of Greg between some stranger’s thighs crawled along my skin and settled in my chest. Was I really so easy to leave?

I wanted. I wanted so badly.

He swallowed audibly. “You haunt me, Emma. Every damn thing about you does.”

My fingers curled into a fist as blood rushed through my veins. “I think about you too. I’ve seen you bare but never got to touch. I want to.” L...

“I feel owned. By you. And I like it.”

“Because you deserve better than me.” He grimaced but didn’t shy away from holding my gaze. “You deserve everything.”

And that hurt. Because I knew without doubt that I was “gone on” Lucian. I started falling the second I laid eyes on him. It was stupid, stupid, stupid.

He thought he didn’t deserve me and walked away, despite this overwhelming desire that simmered over anytime we got into each other’s orbit.

With a smallness that shocked me. I wanted love. I wanted affection and comfort. I wanted to know where my place was in the world and to know that I came first to someone. What I needed to do was get my life in order.

I had my health, and I had friends. Yet I still felt utterly alone. And I had no idea how to fix that.

I wanted him. Him. No one else.

Guilt mixed with a weird protective tenderness for this man.

Mistake. Huge mistake, ordering him to take those off. God, his thighs. Could you call a man’s thick ripped thighs beautiful? I pressed mine together, trying to suppress the desire to straddle one of those lightly furred, powerful thighs and ride it. Didn’t work, though.

“When Cassandra found out I was retiring, she left. Put the ring on the front hall table and bolted.” Oh, Lucian. My entire body squeezed with pain for him. “That moron.”

“At least I have an effect on you. That’s much better than indifference.” He grunted, low and disgruntled.

I’d missed her before I’d even known her.

I tried to get the shirt up but then huffed out a laugh. “You’re going to have to let go of my dick, honey.” She kissed me again, a greedy press of lips. “Don’t want to.”

We’d run into the slight snag that neither of us had condoms. While I was certain there were some to be had in this house, I wasn’t willing to go looking for some. Okay, my flesh was more than willing, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Nor could I let Lucian go find some. My pride couldn’t handle us begging like college kids in a frat house.

Besides, neither of us wanted to part for that long.

Okay, maybe I had read more into last night than Lucian had. It was something, and I’d be damned if he just left it at this.

He raised a hand in a half-helpless, half-frustrated gesture. “My head. It’s my head, Em. I can’t . . .” Oh. Oh. I took a step, but his snarl halted me.

He gripped the back of his neck tightly. “I don’t think you fully understand the horror I feel over telling the woman I want more than anything that I can’t perform because I have a fucking headache. It must be some cosmic joke, but I don’t have it in me right now to laugh.”

He looked so miserable, so disappointed, that my heart gave a big thump. “I’m not laughing either,” I said softly. Now that he’d admitted it, I could see the signs. Signs I had been too distracted by my own lusts...

“Emma. Sweetheart. I don’t want you to see me weak.” “Well, that’s good. Because all I see is strength.” Lucian swallowed visibly, unable to form a reply. The stark lines of his face spoke of s...

With easy movements, I closed the door and then proceeded to pull the heavy drapes around the little house, blocking out the brilliant sunlig...

Lucian stood like a statue, watching me. I walked up to him, noticing the way his big body seemed to sway with exhaustion. “Get into bed, baby.” A tremor went through his lips. “Baby?” “As in honey, darling, dearest Lucian.” “You’re going to make ...

I grabbed the cool pack. “Where do you want this? Neck or forehead?” Something moved through his eyes, an emotion I couldn’t pin, and his throat worked on a swallow. When he spoke, his voice was rusty. “Neck. Please.”

Watchful yet quiet, he made room for me, and when I lay back against the pillows, Lucian shocked me by curling into my body, resting his head on the tops of my breasts. When I placed the cool pack on the back of his iron-hard neck, he sighed in contentment and wrapped his arm more securely around my waist.

Her indigo eyes smiled as she caressed my neck. And I felt like crying. It was the headache. They always made me weak willed and emotional. Not her. It couldn’t have been. I was excellent at lying to myself.

My tension melted, and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall to the side, sink into the pillow. Just feel.

We were so new together, by all accounts, I should be panting madly, trying to take over. But I was slowly heating wax molding to her will.

“Please,” I whispered. My body was weak, but my need grew stronger, drowning out everything else. She complied, stroking, her lips on my lower abs, teasing along the V leading to my hips. “Em . . .” My plea broke off into a groan as her hot mouth enveloped me. There were no more words. I let her have me, do as she willed, and I was thankful for it.

It was that touch, the knowledge that she was doing this because she wanted to take care of me, that rushed me straight to the edge.

And all the tension, all the pain, dissolved like a sugar cube dropped into hot tea.

With a grunt, I fell back, a boneless heap of well-used man. Emma kissed my mouth lightly, then eased off the bed and got a cool washcloth. I closed my eyes and lay compliant as she carefully cleaned me.

The tenderness of her touch threatened to shatter what was left of me, and I swallowed convulsiv...

Nothing about Emma felt safe or easy. She knew me in a way no one else did. And still she was here, caring for me.

I let her fuss over me, getting me slices of bread, a glass of lemonade. Because it made her happy. And a happy Emma glowed with an inner light that I couldn’t take my eyes off.