“I’m sorry,” I mumble, taking another drink of water while Al plucks the recipe card from my hand.
She scans over it before smiling, shaking her head. “Thank you for trying to make more, but next time, just save me one of your mom’s, okay?” she asks, reaching for me.
Alondra never ceases to amaze me. Not once in all of our tutoring sessions did she make me feel like shit for messing up, or taking forever to read through something. She’s been patient and kind.
Right now would be the perfect opportunity for her to give me shit for reading the amount of salt wrong, but I’ve noticed that when it comes to my dyslexia, she never does. Al gives me crap for other shit without hesitation, but this? Never, and aside from Momma and my friends at Wilder, I’ve never met someone more understanding.
I move closer to Al, unable to fight the urge to have my hands on her. She licks her thumb, wiping away something on my forehead, and I smile at her.
“It’s the thought that counts,” she says, and if I didn’t think I was falling for her before, I think I can admit to myself I am now.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“I don’t think your mom will be so understanding when she sees the mess you’ve turned her kitchen into,” Alondra points out, and Momma’s definitely not going to be happy, but I think she’ll be more annoyed I ate the cookies she made for Al.
I nudge Alondra’s legs apart, stepping between them to cup her face. “I’ll clean it in a little bit,” I say, because cleaning everything up is the last thing on my list of priorities right now. Her hazel eyes stand out prominently against her pale skin, but my body thrums with electricity when Al reaches to pull her dark hair over one shoulder.
Sliding my hand down the exposed slope of her neck, I brush my thumb back and forth over the smooth skin, relishing in how Alondra shivers from my touch.
“And what’s your plan until then?” she asks, her voice low.
God, she’s perfect.“This,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her sweetly.
Her hands cup my face when I sweep my tongue over the seam of her mouth, and she opens to me, giving me the chance to increase the depth of the kiss. My hand holds her hip, pulling Al closer to the edge of the counter while my other rests on the back of her neck. I can taste the salty sweet combination from the dough, but I’m distracted when she bites my lower lip.
Here, I can exist in the delusion she’s mine and I’m hers.
A soft groan rises from my throat when Alondra drags her nails over my scalp, and I want her so badly.
I always do.
I tear my mouth from hers, quick to land on her jaw while my fingers slide into her hair, tipping her head back to kiss my way down the curve of her neck to where her pulse is beating fast.
Having Alondra here is better than I could have hoped for.
“Jack,” she whimpers, tugging at my hair as she hooks her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, scraping my teeth teasingly over the spot on her neck I know Al likes. I’m rewarded with a quiet moan, followed by a laugh.
“What are you? A vampire?”
This time I actually bite her, and her legs tighten around me, pressing against my dick, begging for more. I laugh at the same time Alondra does. “I’m going to suck your blood,” I mumble against her skin, lifting my head to smile at her.
She’s so relaxed, and I dip my hand in the bowl of cookie dough next to her, wiping it on Al’s cheek. Alondra gasps in surprise, and she stares widely at me.
“You did not just do that.”
I’m too busy smiling at her to notice her reaching for the bag of flour, flicking the white powder on my face and clothes. She pushes me back, leaving a full handprint on my shirt whenI look down, sputtering in disbelief while Alondra slides off the counter.
“Then I’ll get you back,” she threatens, grabbing the spoon she bit off. I catch Al’s wrist as she moves to get my face, laughing.
“I don’t think so, darlin’,” I say, leaning down to kiss her briefly at the same time I reach for the bag of flour myself, grabbing Alondra’s ass with the same hand.
She yelps, jumping back from me, twisting to see the large handprint clear as day against the black fabric of her leggings. I laugh harder when Al glares at me, still holding her wrist in the air. “Let me get you back.”
Oh? Normally she likes to earn her wins instead of being handed them.
“I should let you wipe cookie dough on my face? I thought you hated it when I let you win?”
