85
" Inside was a golden-yellow tart, its custard so smooth and glossy it shone in the kitchen light like a little sun. A tiny whipped-cream heart sat in the center of the tart with a single rosemary leaf spearing the delicate center.
Delighted, I took the tart out and set it on a plate. It was almost too pretty to eat, and my diet certainly didn't need more sweets in it, but I remembered the rich caramel-and-cream delight of the afternoon's treats and couldn't resist.
The custard cleanly parted for my spoon, the crust crumbling just a little. Closing my eyes, I pushed the spoon past my lips and groaned. Tart-sweet lemon, bright as the dawn, played with delicate cream and a butter-rich crust. Perfectly balanced, it slid over my tongue like a kiss, played along the sides in an elusive tease, prompting me to take another bite.
Hovered over the countertop, I ate that tart with my eyes closed, bite after luscious bite. Letting it fill my senses.
It wasn't normal, getting emotional about dessert, but I found myself tearing up. It tasted oddly like hope, that tart. Like maybe everything would be okay if things like this existed in the world.
Someone put all their skill and care into something that wasn't meant to last but was to be enjoyed in the moment. In return, I felt cared for too. "
― Kristen Callihan , Make It Sweet
86
" Not now, Em."
I hopped over a paver, my pace just shy of making me pant. "If not now, when?"
"How about never?"
"Yeah, that's not going to work."
He snorted with feeling. "You're operating under the misconception that I owe you anything. I don't."
Definitely touchy.
"And I didn't owe you anything when you asked about Dark Castle. But I told you how I felt anyway."
"That's on you."
We rounded a corner, heading toward the tennis court. I had no idea where he was going; maybe he simply thought he could wear me out and pull away.
"You're right." I stopped on the trail, my arms falling to my sides as I caught my breath. To hell with it. I didn't need to be chasing a man who didn't want to be bothered.
Weirdly, as if compelled, Lucian came to a halt and half turned my way to glare at me from over his wide shoulder. His body remained tense and poised to take flight once more.
"We owe each other nothing," I said, raising my voice enough to be clear over the ten feet that separated us. "But no one lives in a complete void. Your grandmother and Sal walk on eggshells around you."
Oh, but that got him. Red suffused his neck, and he stalked back my way, coming within touching distance. "You know nothing about them. Or me."
Yeah, that hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did.
"I know enough. They worry about you. They love you."
Lucian's nostrils flared. "I mean it, Emma. I do not do well with guilt trips."
"If you feel guilty, that's on you. "
― Kristen Callihan , Make It Sweet
88
" I slid my thigh between her warm ones. Damp heat ground into my muscle as she clamped down and rolled her hips with a small helpless groan.
"That feel good, honey?" She was mostly shadows, and I itched to turn on a lamp so I could see her properly. But that would mean stopping, and I wasn't willing to let her go. I relied on touch, running my fingers along her arm, up to her neck, where sweat dewed on her skin. "You like riding my thigh?"
"Yes. Yes." That word again. Best word ever.
Her lips tickled mine as she panted, her sweet sex working in a little circle. I cupped her cheek and ate at her mouth as she took her pleasure. I'd been wanting to give it to her for so long. So fucking long. Her hands found my chest and slid down, mapping their way along my torso. It was nothing in the scheme of things, but that simple exploration, the way she whimpered and gasped into my mouth, sent licks of heat over my skin.
When her slim hand reached my cock and squeezed me through the barrier of my boxers, a groan tore from me. I shuddered, so close to coming from a furtive grope in the dark it would almost be funny if I weren't so worked up.
"Take it out," I rasped, flexing my thigh, knowing she'd feel it. I needed her hand on my bare skin. "Please."
Deftly she stole beneath the waistband and wrapped her fingers around my needy dick, giving it a firm tug. Then I was the one whimpering and gasping, fucking into the clasp of her hand because it felt so good. Sweet relief, hot pleasure. "
― Kristen Callihan , Make It Sweet
89
" Then he planted his big hands on the side of the pool and, with an effortless push, thrust himself up and out of the water.
"Sweet mercy..." My knees went weak, and I gripped the rail to keep from falling over. Oh, Édith, I don't regret anything either.
His body was a Bernini sculpture come to life---Triton looking down on mere mortals. Water sluiced over rippling planes of muscles, trickled down dips and cut grooves, heading straight toward...
His dick. Even from far away, it was impressive. Long and thick with a wide head and plump balls. My lips parted, heat flushing my cheeks, and my nipples tightened. "
― Kristen Callihan , Make It Sweet
96
" Are you done?"
"Done?"
I smiled sweetly. "Staring."
He paused a beat, those absurdly long lashes sweeping when he blinked. Then it was as if a light went off in his head, and a slow, easy smile spread over his face. It transformed him. From brooding brute to beautiful man.
The ice melted from his gaze, turning those green eyes too translucent sea glass. That gaze drew me in, impossible to look away from, even though a prickle of warning danced up my spine----because there was that evil smile to consider.
Then he spoke in a deep, honey-laden drawl. "What's the acceptable time limit? How long did you stare last night?"
Oh, no, no, no.
The blood rushed from my face in hot prickles of horror. A strangled sound escaped my lips.
Lucian leaned in, close enough that I caught a whiff of bitter chocolate and sweet oranges. Why did he have to smell like dessert? He sounded even better----hot cream and honey. "Did you like what you saw?" The question rippled over my skin, sank into my bones, a soft caress that dared me to answer yes. "
― Kristen Callihan , Make It Sweet
