Yours to Savor (48 page)

Sandra was just placing the croissants in the oven when the doorbell rang. She sprang up, hopped to the window, and spotted Brandon’s yellow Ferrari parked in a stall across the street.

She looked at the time on the stove—and cursed.
He’s not supposed to be here for another ninety minutes
!

As things currently stood, she was completely unprepared for his arrival. Half the kitchen was covered in flour, her hair was tied back to stay out of her face, she hadn’t had time to shower, and she didn’t have a lick of makeup on!

The doorbell rang again. Sandra pulled the apron over her head and tried to dust off some of the white patches that clung to her clothes. She still wore her baby blue UCLA tee shirt, and lime green sweatpants that were three sizes too big but super comfy.

The doorbell rang a third time, causing Sandra to jump.
Damn him! I had a skimpy black dress and matching lingerie all laid out in the bedroom for his arrival! He’s not supposed to come early and see me like this!

The irritating chime came a fourth time. Sandra debated yelling at Brandon to go away and come back when he was
supposed to
, like they’d agreed before. But when the doorbell rang again, impatient now, Sandra saw no option but to answer. Still, she grumbled under her breath all the way to the door.

“Sandra,” Brandon said simply when he saw her. Compared to her, he looked a masterpiece. Dark sunglasses shaded his eyes. He was dressed as immaculately as ever in a crisp black polo and matching dark jeans. As always, he had a rich pair of shoes on his feet, these ones shaped like moccasins but made of a supple, navy blue leather.

Sandra glimpsed her reflection in his shades and flinched, aghast at how unkempt she looked. “You’re not supposed to be here this early,” she complained.

Brandon’s only reply was to smile. “Do you know how deliciously sexy you are when you pout?”

“I’m
not
pouting.”

“You are.” He pointed to her lips. “Right there, see? A pout.”

Sandra snapped her teeth at him and he jerked his hand back. She laughed. “Careful where you put that thing, mister.”

“Oh, I have a very good idea of where that will be later.” Sandra’s eyes widened, and he laughed. He did it with such nonchalant freedom that Sandra had to join in—despite her growing blush. But then Brandon’s look became serious. “Your hair is tied back,” he said. “It should never be.”

He reached up and pulled out the clip, then combed his fingers through the mass of tangles to settle it around her shoulders. The gestures was so full of care and adoration that whatever displeasure Sandra felt about his early arrival was swept aside, replaced by the distinct feeling of her heart melting.

His hands framed her face when he was done, and he looked at her deep and hard. Sandra reached up and tugged his sunglasses down his nose, revealing those beautiful, shining green eyes. For a long moment, they just looked at each other like that. Sandra was struck by the fact that this man—this man she was so definitively in love with—was here for her. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “All mine.” The words were so quiet that they barely reached her own ears—but Brandon heard.

His expression changed instantly. His eyes burned, and he swept down to kiss her as if they’d been apart for months instead of a single day. “You’re mine, too, baby,” he murmured when he let her go. “And I never want that to change.” Then he licked his lips. “Although right now, you taste a bit more floury than I remember.”

Sandra punched him hard in the chest, and her blow bounced right off. Brandon chuckled. “Now, are you going to let me in, or are you going to keep doing
that
until the neighbors call about domestic abuse?”

Sandra gave him a mocking smile as she swept her arm to let him through. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Brandon whistled when he stepped in. “This is all yours? I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me in when I dropped you off from Seattle.”

“It was
messier
,” Sandra declared, and muttered a silent prayer for Cassie under her breath. Without her, Sandra didn’t know what she would have done. Cassie had cleaned the whole place up before Sandra had even arrived this morning, even going so far as to take down all the photos of her and Robbie. She’d hidden all of Robbie’s things so Brandon wouldn’t get suspicious. Earlier in the week, she’d gone shopping with Sandra and helped her pick out all the best ingredients for the dishes that she wanted to cook for Brandon. Together they had transformed the dining room into a romantic cavern of candles, incense, rose petals, and beautiful china. Cassie had even hinted—in an obtuse sort of way—that she wouldn’t have a problem with Sandra and Brandon using her bed, provided they cleaned up after. Sandra blushed just thinking about that. No matter what, she wasn’t going to disrespect her friend by having sex with Brandon on her bed.

“Well, it looks sparkling clean to me now.”

“It took a lot of work,” Sandra told him. “And even if I let you in, you’re still
early
. Dinner’s not yet done, the kitchen is a mess, and I have to go change—”

“No,” Brandon growled. “I like you the way you are. You’re adorable in those colors.”

“Thanks,” she said, bitter, “but ‘adorable’ wasn’t the look I was going for tonight. And compared to you, I feel like a slob. I have an outfit ready upstairs—”

“No,” Brandon interrupted again. “Sandra, all I want tonight is
you
. That’s all I’m here for. You don’t need to dress up to impress me.”

“I’m not doing it to
impress
you,” she defended. “I’m doing it because this is supposed to be a fancy, romantic dinner date where I cook for you, like the one we never got around to in Seattle.”

“Oh right,” Brandon said. “I remember. Remind me, why was that again?” Sandra gave him a hard look, and he laughed. “Still, those smells
are
making me hungry. And I haven’t tried your cooking yet. What do you have in there?”

Sandra sighed. “Just the appetizer, for now. And the table’s not even set properly! The rest of dinner is in the oven, or the fridge, or—”

“Sandra.” Something about the way he said her name made her stop. “Relax. I know you went all out, and I appreciate it, but really…” he stepped closer, “…honestly, I’m only here for
you
.”

Sandra couldn’t fight him on that. “Oh, all right. Come on, you can at least sit at the table.”

She led Brandon to the dining room, steering clear of the kitchen so he wouldn’t see the mess inside. Only the salad was ready, and after Brandon sat down she brought it out for him. While he made himself a plate, she went back into the kitchen to check on the main course. It made Sandra feel good inside to hear Brandon’s proclamation that he was here for
her
, but still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that none of this was
right
. She wanted to go change, to light the candles, to turn the stereo on for music that set to mood, to get the wine glasses out… in short, to do everything that she’d
planned
on doing. Rushing things this way felt like it betrayed her effort, somehow.

But Brandon was here, and that’s all that mattered. Sandra wrapped her hands in two towels and popped open the oven to take out the crispy croissants. As she was transferring them to a glass serving platter, she heard the door behind her creak open. Before she knew it, she felt Brandon’s hands tighten around her waist.

“Put that down,” he rumbled. “I’m hungry for you, not for pastries.”

She scoffed over her shoulder. “
Real
smooth, Brandon.”

“I’m being honest. I couldn’t wait.” He spun her around so fast she let go of the serving platter.

“Shit!” Sandra swore, but before the word left her lips she was consumed by Brandon’s overpowering kiss. The crash of the platter against the floor seemed to happen in some other dimension. Vaguely, Sandra became aware of tiny glass shards all around her feet, but it was a distant thought. And when Brandon let her go, she felt almost too woozy to stand.

Brandon turned his attention to the ground. “Well, at least it matches the mess in the rest of the kitchen,” he quipped.

Sandra took one look at him—and burst out laughing. He had white flour all over the front of his dark shirt, and some on his chin and cheeks, too.

Brandon looked at her suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“You have flour on your nose,” she told him.

“Oh? And I wonder who I got
that
from.” He winked. “You have flour all over your face.”

“I do not!” Sandra protested, bringing her hands to her cheeks to check—and realized he was right when they came away snowy white. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” she started, but Brandon had twisted away from her for some reason.

She grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around—and found him holding a handful of flour he’d just brushed off the counter. The mischievous sparkle in his eye was all the warning Sandra got before he tossed it all in the air above her head.

“Ahh!” she shrieked, trying to duck from the cloud, but she was too slow. The powder settled on her hair, her face, her shoulders—and all over the broken platter on the floor. “You devil!” Sandra screamed, scooping up her own handful from the counter to throw back at him.

Brandon laughed and sidestepped the barrage, but not before a second handful got him right in the face. His mouth dropped in surprise. He looked so ridiculous, his face coated white like a ghost, the red of his mouth showing, that Sandra started laughing so hard she almost fell to the floor. She clutched at the pain in her sides.

Brandon, however, was quick to react. He bolted right after her. Thankfully, the kitchen island was between them. Sandra had just enough time to scramble away. They ran around like children, laughing and screaming as they flung handfuls of dusty powder at each other, until Brandon finally caught her and tackled her to the ground, far from the shattered dishware.

He began tickling her, his hands darting to her armpits, behind her knees, and Sandra was rendered helpless by fits of laughter. They rolled around like that for a little while, Sandra pleading for mercy and Brandon denying it, until Sandra found herself pinned beneath his body. Brandon held both her wrists over her head as he rained raspberries
onto her neck. Sandra was so consumed by laughter that it took her a few extra moments to recognize when Brandon’s raspberries transformed into sharp, lustful kisses.

His teeth pulled at the skin on her neck as he pinned her to the floor. Suddenly, Sandra felt a flush of heat radiate between her legs. She could feel Brandon’s erection pressing against her through his pants.

The next thing she knew, one of his hands was sliding under her shirt to take hold of her breast. Her skin erupted in a tingling sensation, and she grabbed two fistfuls of hair and yanked his head up from her neck to make him kiss her. His hot tongue invaded her mouth, and she nipped his upper lip as his hand continued to knead her breasts beneath her shirt.

“Your clothes are all dusty,” she told him when he lifted his head. She sucked in a lusty breath. “We need to get them off,” she simpered seductively.

Brandon’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, and he sat up, straddling her waist, and pulled his black shirt off to unveil his magnificent body.

No matter how many times Sandra saw his physique, it never failed to spark a sense of erotic excitement deep in her core. The striations of his abs, the lean length of his obliques, the powerful presence of his chest seemed like a combination only possible on a magazine cover with the help of Photoshop—not on a living, breathing human being. And especially not on one positioned right above her.

Sandra brought her hands to his torso, taking immense pleasure in the way his muscles quivered under her fingers. Her hands explored his body, leaving white smears of flour all over his tanned skin. He drew a breath in and closed his eyes. Sandra could feel his erection growing harder.

When his eyes opened again, they were smoky and cool. “Now, let’s see what you have under there,” he growled. Sandra lifted her arms as he pulled her shirt over her head. Cool air rushed over her tight nipples, and Brandon dipped his head down to kiss his way from her navel to her breasts, sucking on each before pulling his mouth off with a delicious
pop
. Each sound sent a soft wave of pleasure cascading through Sandra. Her hands went to his jeans as he kissed her neck, and she unzipped his fly and slipped her hand through to brush her fingers through the perfect dusting of pubic hair before gripping the hard shaft of his cock.

He groaned into her shoulder at her touch. She could feel him growing even thicker in her palm. She stroked him, slowly and steadily, taking immense pleasure in the little helpless shudders it elicited in him. The cold from the tile floor seeped into her back, but the heat of Brandon’s body above her was more than enough to compensate.

With a throaty rumble he broke away, and ripped her sweatpants right off along with her panties. Sandra gasped and clenched her thighs to lift into him. But Brandon had other ideas.