Breaking All the Rules (13 page)

“Because bakers
can’t be wild and hot?”

“It’s not the
first thought that comes to mind.”

“That’ll teach
you to buy into stereotypes.”

“But more than
that, I just couldn’t see you as a baker. The first time you told me I almost
fell off the bed.”

Nina smiled at
the memory. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You just don’t
seem…” He trailed off, as though he couldn’t figure out how to put it.

“Domestic?” Nina
provided with a smirk. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Back in
college, a lot of the girls looked at me like I was crazy. They thought they
were too cool or modern to bake, like you had to be some kind of Happy
Homemaker stereotype. It was old-fashioned, something their mothers did, not
them.” She shrugged. “Their loss. Baking is awesome. I love it. Always have.”

“So you’ve been
doing it for a long time.”

“It’s something
my mother and I used to do together. The first time we baked something, we had
just moved to a new place, and I think she wanted to make a treat to help ease
the transition for me—and for her.” She shook her head. “My mother loved my
father, but she wasn’t really cut out for the life of a Navy wife. She didn’t
like the moving and the lack of steady friends. She was lonely a lot. I guess I
take after her like that.”

“I’m sure you
have to take after your dad in some ways too.”

Nina had no
trouble recognizing the truth in the statement. She knew full well which traits
she shared with her father. She met Bobby’s eyes with a smirk. “Yeah, my dad
was stubborn and liked getting his own way. When he made up his mind about
something he almost never changed it.”

“Sounds
familiar,” Bobby muttered.

She couldn’t
help but enjoy how dissatisfied he was with the answer. That was what he got
for bringing it up. “Anyway, baking became kind of tradition for my mom and me,
a way to break in a new place and celebrate our new home. She taught me
everything she knew, and eventually I started doing it on my own. I made my way
through a couple of cookbooks, then began experimenting with new flavors and
recipes I’d created. When I got old enough to care about what I ate, I began
testing healthier options, making things that weren’t as fatty or high in
calories without sacrificing taste. I don’t even think I ever made the
conscious decision to make it my career. It was just something that I was
already doing, so of course I would keep doing it. Might as well get paid for
it as long as I was, right? I mean, ingredients can get expensive after a
while.”

“You really do
love it,” Bobby observed.

“I do,” Nina
said. “I don’t think there’s anything I don’t like about it. After all these
years, I’m still learning new things. I like making something with my own two
hands. I love being in my kitchen. I get to be creative and develop new
products. And I know this probably sounds cheesy, but I like making people
happy, and I know that what I do does that. I might not be saving the world,
but I like to think that everything I bake will make someone happy. And yes,
that makes me happy.”

Nina suddenly
realized just how long she’d been talking, embarrassment rising in her cheeks.
He’d landed on one topic she could talk about forever, which was probably how
long she’d been going on.

If she’d bored
him, he didn’t show it. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his
eyes warm and attentive as he watched her. His face was softened with an
affectionate smile, like he was enjoying listening to her, as if he would be
perfectly happy to go on doing so.

Nina felt a
traitorous tug deep inside in response. She didn’t want to be affected by the
warmth in his eyes or his smile. But damned if she didn’t feel it just the
same, that same warmth seeming to wash over her, filling her from head to toe.

Then she
realizing something else. “Wait. How many questions was that?”

“One. The others
were comments you responded to.”

She thought
back. He was right. “They all should count,” she argued.

“Nope. They
weren’t said in the form of a question. It wouldn’t count on
Jeopardy!
and
it doesn’t count here.”

Nina scowled at
him. “And here I was admiring your sense of fair play.”

“I am playing
fair. I didn’t have to cop to that one question.”

Nina might have
objected further, except he chose that moment to whip off his undershirt. Faced
with that glorious body, she was struck mute. His chest was broad and clearly defined,
his pecs firm. Her eyes drifted over the light dusting of crisp dark hair that
covered his chest. What she wouldn’t give to crawl over the table and plunge
her fingers into it, to run her palms all over his smooth, hot skin. Her
fingers flexed of their own volition, wanting it as much as the rest of her.

She was so
distracted she almost missed his next question.

“Have you ever
been in love?”

Blindsided, she
could only gape at him. “What do you mean?”

“Seems like a pretty
simple question to me.”

She narrowed her
eyes in annoyance. “All right. Then my simple answer is ‘sort of.’ Take off
your pants.”

“Hold on. That’s
not an answer.”

“Yes, it is. A
simple one. If you have a follow-up, it’s going to cost you.” She cursed
herself for not thinking of this tactic earlier. She could have made him use up
all of his questions and gotten him naked long before now.

Bobby eyed her
for a long moment and she wasn’t sure he was going to give in. Then he pushed
to his feet and reached for his waistband.

Unbuttoning his
jeans, he pulled them off one leg at a time. As he did it, he lifted each leg
to her eye level, giving her a prime view of each muscled calf, each hard thigh
encased in his boxers. His legs were more densely covered with the same dark
hair on his chest. She knew well how soft it was, especially when he was on top
of her and their legs were entwined, his hairy calves sliding against her
smooth ones.

Bobby set his
jeans on a nearby chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, what do you
mean, ‘sort of?’”

Nina swallowed a
sigh. All of her delay tactics had only brought her to the same destination
after all. “There have been a couple times when I thought I was, but when the
relationships ended, it never hurt enough to be a broken heart. It always
turned out to be a simple case of infatuation. Or lust,” she added pointedly,
the tone of her voice leaving no doubt she was lumping their relationship in
that group. “Now take off those boxers.”

Hooking his
thumbs into the elastic waistband, he shucked off the underwear and stepped out
of them. Then he simply stood there, his eyes on her face, withstanding her
perusal.

She examined him
leisurely, admiring every inch of him. His cock hung low between his thighs,
thick and heavy. Even as she took in the sight of him, his body began to
respond. His cock stirred. She watched, fascinated, as it began to lift and
thicken. It slowly grew longer, harder, until it jutted out from the bed of
black hair. She knew he wasn’t fully aroused. He was only half-hard, but there
was no denying the effect her attention was having on him and how stimulated he
was.

She wondered
what it would take to get him all the way there. If she leaned forward and
wrapped her fingers around his shaft, would it surge in her hand, the blood
pounding through the thick vein underneath? What if she didn’t touch him, but
slowly ran her tongue around the rim of his cock’s soft mushroom-shaped head?

Unable to sit
still any longer, Nina rose to her feet. Her hand was moving before the rest of
her, eager to touch whatever part of him it encountered first.

Bobby caught her
wrist before she was even halfway there.

“You can look,
but you can’t touch,” he chided.

“Now where’s the
fun in that?”

“You know the
deal. Nothing’s going to happen until we have a date. This is all you’re going
to get.”

Her left hand
was already coming up as he said it. He trapped it in his right.

She scowled up
at him as they stood there, locked together, his hands clamped around her
wrists. “I thought you were all about breaking the rules.”

“Not this time.”

With shocking
swiftness, he moved forward, pushing her arms behind her back and imprisoning
them there in his steely grip. They stood chest to chest. Almost unconsciously,
she rubbed her breasts against him. They’d been achy and heavy since the moment
he’d removed his boxers and she lay eyes on him. Now the delicious friction
caused by their bodies only made her feel it more.

Down lower, she
could feel his erection against her belly, nudging insistently. As her breasts
moved against him, she could swear she felt him harden further. Still, he made
no move to step away.

“How bad do you
want it, Nina?”

“About as much
as you, I’d say.” She flicked her gaze lower so there was no mistaking her
meaning.

He lowered his
face to hers, his lips a tantalizingly short distance away. “Enough to give me
one date?”

“No,” she said,
but the denial had no conviction. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. The
sensation of his whole body surrounding her, his arms locked around her, his
chest against her breasts, was all too much. She breathed in, and he was all
she smelled.

His warm breath
washed over her cheeks. “One date, Nina, and then I can kiss you.”

It should have
been so easy to say no. It was one little word. It was barely a syllable.

Somehow she
couldn’t force it out.

Weak. He made
her so weak.

“Yes,” she
sighed, even as her muddled brain wasn’t sure what it was she was agreeing to.
Yes to the kiss. Yes to the date. Yes to everything he offered her. It didn’t
matter.

Then his mouth
was on hers. He softly brushed his lips against hers, a gentle caress she felt
down to her toes. She’d barely managed to respond when he pulled away. A
whimper rose in her throat. Before it could come out, he kissed her again,
longer, deeper, but somehow just as gently. Then again, and again, each time he
captured her mouth, each stroke of his lips against her lingering longer than
the last. The feeling in her throat emerged as a sigh. She automatically fell
into the rhythm he created, meeting him kiss for kiss, trying to draw out each
one even longer.

His tongue
slipped between her lips to find hers. She felt a little charge when it did,
the spark of electricity shooting back into her body and straight down her
spine. Bobby slowly stroked his tongue against hers, rubbing them together the
same way she wished their bodies were pressed together, rubbing back and forth,
tangled and writhing on her sheets. Or the floor. Or the kitchen counter. Damn
it, she didn’t care. She just wanted the goddamn contact, to feel him against
her, to rub up and down, back and forth, every part of her slipping and sliding
against him as furiously and desperately as their tongues were right now.

He suddenly
broke away, his tongue withdrawing. She tried to go after it, darting her own
out with a groan of frustration, only to find him pulling his lips away
entirely. He moved his mouth to the side of hers, pressing the lightest of
kisses at the corner of her mouth, then lower. She instinctively turned her
head away as he made his way along her jawline, allowing him greater access as
he kissed his way upward, toward her ear. Anticipation built, the heat inside
her growing, until he finally arrived there. His warm breath brushed against
her ear as he leaned closer.

“What time
should I pick you up tomorrow?”

She was so
turned on, her whole body buzzing, sparking, rushing with awareness, that she
heard the words as if through the haze. It took a few seconds for them to sink
in.

The date. He was
talking about the damn date.

That was her
cue, she thought faintly. She should tell him she’d changed her mind.

Instead, she
heard herself answer the question, almost like someone else was doing it, the
word coming out on its own.

“Seven.”

“Here or at the
shop?”

She could hear
the smug satisfaction in his voice, but damned if she could do anything about
it. The heat of his breath, the rumble of his voice, the insinuating tone, went
straight in her ear, pouring through her body like lava, igniting everything it
encountered. She was on fire, burning from the inside out.

“The shop.”

“Perfect.”

With shocking
abruptness he released her. She rocked back on her heels. Before she could
steady herself, he’d moved back to his clothes. He started to tug his jeans on,
not bothering with his boxers. Her eyes drifted down to his crotch. She was
gratified to see he was rock-hard, his cock jutting up, ramrod-straight from
his body.

“Come on,” she
said, keeping her voice low and sultry. “You don’t really want to leave in that
condition.”

“You’re right,”
he said, surprising her. He winced as he tucked his cock into his fly and
zipped up. The denim looked like it could barely contain him, on the verge of
bursting at any moment. She was amazed he’d even managed to get the zipper
shut. “But I have to. Those are the rules. And I know how much you like rules.”

“My rules. The
fun rules. The good rules. Not your stupid ones.”

He pulled his
T-shirt on over his head, robbing her of the sight of that glorious torso. She
damn near whimpered. “They’re still my rules. I can’t expect you to abide by
them if I don’t.”

“Then don’t
expect me to. Problem solved.”

Grabbing his
boxers and outer shirt in one hand, he scooped up his shoes in the other and
headed for the door. She started trailing after him in disbelief. No way. There
was no way in hell he was going to get her turned on like this and then leave
her for a second night in a row.