Her fingers move tentatively at first. Then firmer as she follows the pattern I set.
The dough yields under our combined pressure, soft and pliable, just like a lover’s body.
No.
Don’t.
I press my thumbs into the center, folding the dough over itself, then releasing.
“Too much pressure ruins it.” My lips are close enough to her ear that I feel the heat of her skin. Why the hell are my lips close enough to her ear to feel the heat of her skin?
“Too little does nothing.”
Her breath comes faster. I hear it. I feel it.
And all I smell is her. Vanilla.
Shit.
Why vanilla?
Of all the scents in the world, why is the one that is my aphrodisiac?
“Like this?” She steps onto her tiptoes, and the curve of her ass presses into me.
It sends a jolt through me.
Why the hell am I this close?
Am I out of my mind?
“Yes.” The word is a hiss.
She rises again and leans into it, and her ass—
Shit.
Way too close.
I should step back. I should.
But I don’t.
I keep my hands on hers. Keep guiding her through the motions. Keep talking to her like she’s the one I’m seducing.
And for fuck sakes, why the hell does that feel like what I’m doing?
“It’s warm now.” Her knuckles brush mine again.
It’s barely contact, but it hits like a live wire—every single time.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I know better.
But I can’t seem to unplug myself from her gravity.
“Alive.” My voice cracks, and I make it a point to look at the ladies I’m teaching. “It should feel alive,” I tell them, but I know it’s only to distract me from our fingers tangled together.
