A dangerous glint darkened his eyes. “And what exactly would he say?”
The dream in my head collapsed as real memories bulldozed over it. “The usual controlling stuff assholes say to their wives about sweets and hobbies they don’t think will impress the partners in the firm they work for.”
Teller’s eyes narrowed as he chewed over my answer. Then he picked up our glasses and slid off his stool, careful not to knock me off in the process. I wanted to ask what he was doing, but I just watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he washed the glasses and put them on a rack to dry. Next, he wiped off the counter.
What are you doing?screamed through my head, but the words didn’t leave my mouth.
He rounded the bar to my side and held an elbow out. “We’re going back to my place, and you’re going to bake whatever the hell you want, and you’re going to do it naked until you don’t remember a thing that asshole said.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Teller
Madison refused to bake naked, but I got her down to her bra and underwear and an old apron that I had gotten as a housewarming gift from one of my sisters. The front readMy ego is as inflated as my buns.
Madison giggled every time she looked down at the words.
She pulled a batch of sugar cookies out. Three bowls of colored frosting were lined up on the counter. The shy way she’d told me that decorating cookies was something she loved to do still gutted me.
Why had everyone in her life been so terrible?
I snagged a warm cookie and shoved the whole thing in my mouth.
“They’re better cold and frosted,” she said.
I lifted a shoulder, still chewing. They’d be better if I could eat them off her bare stomach.
She turned the oven off and studied her cookies. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. These need more time to cool, or the icing will ooze everywhere after I pipe it.”
I selected a cookie and took the narrow spatula from the pink icing and spread it over the cookie. It thinned and crept close to the edge, but it didn’t drip off. “Come here.”
Her eyes flared. She moved to put her hands on her hips, realized she wasn’t wearing much for clothing, then started to fold her arms, clocked the floury apron, and clasped her hands instead. “Why?”
“You haven’t eaten one yet.”
“I don’t usually when I’m baking.”
“You’re done baking.” I turned on my stool and pushed the seat next to me a few inches out so she could slide on. “Come here.”
Tentatively, she crept toward me, her gaze dipping from mine to the treat in my hand. She stopped by the stool and licked her red lips. I lifted the cookie to her mouth. She took a cautious nibble as if she was afraid I’d shove the thing in her face.
“Take a goddamn bite, Mads,” I growled.
Her eyes locked with mine. She opened wide and chomped half the cookie off.
I gave a grunt of approval. Her eyelids fluttered and the faintest moan left her.
“Good, aren’t they?” I asked gruffly.
She delicately wiped the corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t bake them if they weren’t.”
A grin stretched my lips. “That’s my girl. Don’t hide from your talent.”
A blush stained her cheeks and I offered her the rest. She chewed, her gaze darting around like she didn’t trust when the focus was on her.
I framed her hips with my hands, my fingertips hitting just above her underwear on her warm, bare skin. “Tell me what you’re tasting.”
Her brows crunched together. “I’m chewing,” she said around her mouthful.
