she said.
Zack walked across the open room and took her remote off the couch, aiming it at the TV and putting it on the local channel broadcasting the event.
“Who’s playing?” she asked.
“No idea.” He tossed the remote back where it had been and crossed back into the kitchen, taking a seat at one of the bar stools that lined the counter.
“Important enough to come over for, though,” she said, looking down at her plate and stabbing a piece of meat with her fork.
“I missed you,” he said, his voice rough.
“What … me? You missed me?”
“Yes. We always get together Monday. And I found myself wandering around my house. Thought about turning the game on. But you’re right. I don’t really care about football, probably a side effect of coming down from the high of being the world’s most entitled high-school jock. I didn’t really want to watch sports, but I did want to eat dinner. With you.”
“I missed you, too, Zack,” she said.
His smile. His presence. His arms around her while she slept. But she wasn’t allowed to miss that last part. That had to be done. Over.
As for their friendship … she didn’t know what she would do without him. But she didn’t know if she would ever get over him if he was always around, either.
But she had to be with him, at least until she left Roasted. She would worry about the rest then.
“Making cupcakes?” he asked.
“They’re going to be very tropical.” She took a bite of fried rice and stood up, walking back into the kitchen to grab the can of pineapple juice she’d been after when he came to the door. “Not sure about them yet.”
She punched the top of the tin and drizzled some juice into her frosting, stirring it in slowly.
Zack leaned over the counter and stuck his finger in the bowl. She smacked the top of his hand. “I will frost your butt, Parsons. Keep your fingers out of my mixing bowl.”
He held his finger near his lips and gave her a roguish smile. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He licked his frosting-covered finger and her internal muscles clenched in response.
She snorted. “No. I don’t know. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah.”
Her heart fluttered, but it was a manageable amount. “Behave.”
He arched one eyebrow. “Can’t make any promises.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back down to her dinner.
“Heard anymore about the store in Japan?” she asked.
That got Zack rolling on statistics and sales figures and all sorts of things he found endlessly fascinating. She liked that about him. Liked that his job sometimes gave him a glint in his eye that made him look like an enthusiastic kid.
Then he launched into a story about the street performers that had been out in front of the restaurant tonight when he’d picked the food up, which reminded her of the time they’d been all but accosted by a street mime on their way to lunch one day.
She really had missed this. Sharing. Laughing. She loved that he knew her, that he knew all of her best stories, her most embarrassing moments.
The timer pinged for the cupcakes and she got up to check them.
“Finished?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, pulling them out with an oven mitt and setting them on the counter. “But hot.” She nearly laughed at his pained expression. “I have some cool ones, though. I know you don’t bake, but if you want to frost them you’re welcome to.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Bear in mind they are highly experimental.”
He smiled. “Sounds exciting, anyway.”
“Or a potential disaster of epic proportions, but we won’t know until we taste them.”
She loaded up a frosting bag and handed it to Zack while she set her own up and got started on leaving little stars all over the surface of one of the cupcakes.
Zack sneaked his hand past her and dipped it into the bowl again. She grabbed the spatula and smacked the back of his hand, leaving a streak of white frosting behind. “I said stop!” she said, laughing as he examined the mess she’d left behind.
“But the frosting is the best part.”
“You didn’t try the cake yet.”
He shrugged and raised his hand to his lips cleaning off the frosting she’d left behind, then he moved his finger near her mouth. “Taste?” he asked.
In that moment, it felt like her vision tunneled, reduced to nothing but Zack. The game, the sounds of the whistle, the crowd, the announcers, faded, blood roaring in her ears.
It was innocent. Or it should have been. She tried to tell herself that for about ten seconds. Because there was no female friend on earth, no matter how close, who would have offered what Zack was at the moment.
So it wasn’t innocent. She looked up, her eyes clashing with his.
They were dark, intense. Aroused. The air between them seemed to thicken, the only sound her breath. Too loud. Too obvious.
It wasn’t innocent at all.
She’d promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. That their last night together had been exactly that: their last night together.
It won’t happen again. I just need a taste.
She leaned in and slid her tongue along the line of his finger and her entire body tightened when a rough groan escaped his lips. The salt of his skin gave bite to the super-sweet frosting. If her cupcakes were a bust maybe she could just spread it all over Zack.
No.
She pulled back sharply, shaking her head. “Sorry. Just … sorry, I …”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her, deep and long, his tongue still coated in icing. When he released her, she felt dazed in the very best way.
She licked her lips. “You taste like a pineapple,” she said, her breath erratic, her heart pounding.
“Is that a good thing?” His voice sounded strained, like each word was an effort.
“I might have to … test it out again.”
He smiled and her stomach curled in on itself. “I’m more than willing to aid you in the testing.”
He dipped his head and she closed the distance between them, sliding her tongue over his bottom lip,
