The houses started to thin out as I reached the edge of town. Hers was the third one on the left, a small ranch-style with white siding and a red door. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the front steps.
I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at that door.
I swung off the bike and walked up the path, my boots heavy on the concrete. The night was quiet except for the distant sound of crickets and the pounding of my own heart.
I raised my hand and knocked.
Inside, I heard movement. Footsteps. A pause.
The door opened, and there she was.
Trudy stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise. She was still wearing the blue dress from the baby shower, her hair slightly mussed, her expression caught between shock and something else. Something that looked a lot like hope.
“It’s late,” she said, though we both knew that wasn’t the point.
“I know.” I held her gaze, letting her see everything I felt. Everything I’d been holding back for six months. “I needed to see you.”
Her breath hitched, and her hand tightened on the doorframe.
And standing there in the darkness, with the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us, I realized she felt it too.
This pull. This inevitability.
She knew this was more than flirtation. More than attraction. More than two people circling each other in a small-town bakery.
This was real.
And neither of us could deny it anymore.
Not to each other.
Not to ourselves.
CHAPTER NINE
Popeye
I didn’t wait for her to invite me in.
Instead, I stepped forward, crowding her backward into the house, and kicked the door shut behind me with my boot. The sound echoed through the quiet space, final and decisive.
“Stephen—”
I took her face in my hands and kissed her.
Not gentle. Not asking permission. I kissed her like I’d been starving for her, like every goddamn morning watching her move behind that counter had been torture, like every sharp word from that beautiful mouth had been foreplay.
She made a sound of surprise, maybe protest, but then her hands fisted in my leather jacket and she kissed me back just as hard.
Fuck yes.
Her mouth opened under mine, and I took everything she gave me, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting coffee and sugar and something uniquelyher. She tasted like every fantasy I’d had sitting in that bakery, causing me to go to bed every night hard and aching.
I walked her backward through the living room, my hands sliding from her face down her neck, her shoulders, finding thezipper at the back of that blue dress. She gasped against my mouth as I dragged it down, the sound going straight to my cock.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” I growled against her lips. “Months of watching you, wanting you, knowing you wanted me too but were too stubborn to admit it.”
“I didn’t—” she started, but I bit her bottom lip and she moaned instead.
