Chapter Eight

 

MANDY

“You will never believe who I came across on my run this morning.” I grab an apple off the counter, toss it in the air and take a bite out of the crisp flesh.

I might be persistent, obsessed, downright adamant about getting Sam Sweets to fall in love with me, but this morning, running into him while jogging was a pure stroke of luck. I’m still high on how close he came to kissing me. He did. I could tell. My lips tingled and my pulse shot up like a rocket as his mouth grazed my cheek. A sensation I can still feel. And he’s jealous of Cas. Even now, I have that whole flip-flop happening in my belly at his admission.

“Do you have to eat the ingredients?” Casper mock growls at me from where he’s mixing flour and eggs and other stuff. There’s a bowl of apple slices already cut up beside him.

Wiping the tart juice from the side of my mouth, I grin. “Didn’t you tell the kids that they should learn about food by popping it in their mouths? I’m pretty sure that’s the words I heard you say.”

“It’s a good rule.” He shrugs. “Especially since you’re acting like a fucking teenager. Now put your apron on and grab the loaves of bread. You’re on sandwich duty. They’re going on some nature walk today, so we need to get this shit done.”

“Ah nature. It’s beautiful.” I do as he orders, getting out the fixings he’s already made, lining up slices of bread in neat rows, and putting them together like an assembly line. “I ran into Sam. He’s not very happy about you and me.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” Ham and cheese. Ham and cheese. Chicken and mayo. “I’d go so far as to say your plan is working. Or almost working. He admitted he might be jealous. A little bit.”

The room is suddenly silent, and when I glance up from what I’m doing Cas is watching me intently, the spoon in his hand paused over the bowl he holds with one arm. “It’s going well then?”

“I think so.” He should probably ease up his grip on the spoon. It’s a wooden one, and I can practically hear it cracking with how tightly he’s holding it. “For a second, I actually thought he was going to kiss me.”

“That’s what you want,” he says, frowning as he scoops the mixture into muffin cases.

“It is.” I’m not a fan of Cas going quiet like this. It’s almost guaranteed a storm is on the horizon. I hum softly to myself, and double down on preparing the sandwiches. Cas isn’t an ogre, not to work with and not personally. He’s just not good with people. And I’m not entirely sure that isn’t because he goes out of his way to ensure people keep their distance. The way he did with me when we first met. Only the more time I spend with him the easier it is to see there’s another layer to this onion. In another reincarnation, he was probably a nice guy. Sometimes I catch glimpses of it in the way he looks at me or talks to me. I’d bet my life that underneath the saltiness he’s actually nice, and attentive, and I’m almost certain hung like a donkey. Or is it a horse?

I covertly glance across to where he’s bent over, shoving trays of muffins into the fancy schmancy oven. It really is. Three doors, one fully for baking with six shelves. The other two for whatever he puts in there. And his tight ass right there for me to ogle. I swallow and lick my lips. A girl could bite that ass, hard. She’d probably lose her teeth, but it would be so worth it.

What the hell is wrong with me? It’s only Cas. The same man who hates me most of the time, and could never ever be as dreamy as Sam. His mouth on mine, though. It was exquisite.

I tap the tip of the butter knife against my collarbone. He’s all man. So much man. Solid muscles and sinew. Hard kisses, and equally hard other bits. Dark appearance and intense gazes. Stubble and a jawline that could change a girl’s whole opinion on life. My insides clench. My mouth waters.

What am I doing? I want Sam, not Cas. Sam, who’s a little bit jealous and who won’t be able to hold out forever. I probably shouldn’t have lied to him though. About my virginity. But I’ve used my vibrator so many times it’s practically like I’m not. Well, it should be. Sometimes I imagine my battery-operated friend is all the man I need. That in the end I’m only going to be disappointed by the real thing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cas glowers at me as he eats up the space in the kitchen in two easy strides to grip my wrist and yank the knife free with his other hand. “Are you ever going to fucking learn, or are you always going to be this stupid?”

“What?” I blink. The storm hits full force. A mask of fury darkens his eyes, and his fingers bite into my wrist. “Do you know how easily you could hurt yourself? Do you?”

“With a butterknife?” I glance at the metal cutlery in his fist, its tip still coated in butter. Great, I probably have butter on my neck now. “That’s, like, a completely blunt object.”

“Oh it’s blunt is it?”

“Clearly.” I squint up at him. What could possibly make him overreact so badly to a bit of silverware?

Using his grip on my wrist, he yanks me closer. He’s a wall of broad muscle. Hot marble under my palm. I want to push my hand up under his shirt. Want to explore the hard ridges of his torso and those tattoos I’ve only been able to look at from a distance before now. Sam probably wouldn’t have any tattoos, but Cas… Hot damn… I clench my thighs. What the hell has gotten into me? And he’s yelling at me again, holding me trapped. “Blunt or not, accidents fucking happen. What if it hadn’t been the butterknife in your hand? What if you cut yourself?”

“Then I would have needed a Band-Aid.” I clamp my lips shut as thunder rolls across his expression, but his grip on me relaxes as he drops the offending silverware and brushes his fingers over my collarbone. It tickles and sparks. A kaleidoscope of sensation twisting from his touch that makes my insides squeeze. “I’m okay,” I try to reassure him. “It really was completely blunt.”

“What were you thinking about?” He studies my face, moves closer so he can peer into my eyes. His are full of worry and something deeper that tugs at my heart and makes me need to comfort him however I might.

My fingers find his cheek, smooth above scratchy stubble. It brings back the sensation of his lips against mine. I want that to happen again. I shouldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. Not with Cas, who is always so mean… but he isn’t, is he? He’s hurting, and I want to ask him why. I want to climb into the circle of his arms and ease whatever pain is behind this look on his face.

His fingers knead along the line of my neck, smearing the traces of butter over my skin. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Of course not.” But maybe I’m having one. Is that what this is? The way my chest flutters unsteadily. The dampness at my hairline. The need, the urge to touch as much of him as possible until I can’t take it anymore. I slide my other hand up his chest, lean into him. He smells like apples and cinnamon and mint. With a little clean sweat mixed in. My panties are soaked, and it’s not that I don’t understand the anatomy, the science, the experience, but it’s Casper freaking Morgan. Who only just finished telling me I’m stupid, although I’m pretty sure that is his way of saying he cares. God, that sounds screwed up, and no I’m not the kind of girl who likes a man who puts her down, which is why this isn’t anything. It’s nothing. Not even a moment. But it feels like a moment. The kind of moment that happens in romance novels and movies. The kind I don’t have any experience with. Other than that one kiss with Cas.

“Then tell me,” he orders. “Were you thinking about Sam? Is that why you forgot to use your brain? Is that what had you distracted? You should keep your distractions for when you’re not in the kitchen. If you’re too preoccupied with—”

“It wasn’t Sam.” I shake my head. I should lie and tell him it was. He’ll step back. He’ll move away. I won’t be touching him and waiting, expecting, hoping he’s going to kiss me again. The words come out garbled. “It was you. I was thinking about you. Your ass. What it’d be like to bite it. Whether you’re still thinking about our kiss. I’m a virgin.”

Oh shit. I go to slam my hand over my mouth, but he’s far too quick. Scooping my hand out of thin air, he squeezes it, holds it in his. There’s something else in his gaze now, an intensity that makes my breath freeze in my chest and my mouth go dry. A burn as hot as the spot between my legs, and it’s growing warmer with every second he’s staring at me. “I think my kitty is on fire.” 

“Stop,” he growls. His fingers dig into my shoulder, pull me right up against him. “God, Mandy, you need to shut the fuck up.”

I don’t. I can’t. His whole body is touching mine. His hardness is pressed to my belly, and it’s massive. It has to be, it seems to go on forever. I blink and my pulse stutters. “How many inches are you packing anyway? Ten? Eleven? Twelve?”

“Fuck,” he says. One word. His favorite. It punches the air into silent submission, hovers between us, deciding whether to be a statement or an action, then falls just as fast as his lips do over mine. Demanding, rough.

He tastes sharp and sweet like mint as he swipes his tongue over mine, explores my mouth. Stubble scrapes at my cheeks, teeth bite at my lip. Chiselled biceps and strong forearms hold me to him. I’m breathless, moaning, and completely on fire as he shoves his knee between my thighs. Yes, I rock on it. I freaking rock like his leg was made to be a sex toy, while his hands cup my ass, squeezing and dragging me against him until I’m whimpering. So close. Good lord, is this really happening? Is this, oh shit!

“Cas… please, Cas,” I plead. For what? What’s he going to do? Other than what he’s already doing, driving me relentlessly to an end of this mix of pleasure and aching need that is nothing, I repeat nothing, like having sex with my vibrator has ever been.

Cas buries his face in my shoulder, his lips on my collarbone, and he croaks like he’s in agony. Like this is torture, like I’m hurting him physically with every shift of our bodies against one another. “That’s it, girl.”

I fall. So hard, so far, so fast. My legs go numb, my knees weak. Cas holds me. It’s painful, the way he’s so tender. His hands are gentle as they release their grip on my flesh, but don’t leave my skin. Slowly he moves back, inch by inch. I extricate myself too. Try to put my insides back together.

I can’t let him see how he shakes me up and spins me around. How caring about him could damage my plans. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen between Cas and I. This is crazy, and not helpful. Our agreement was to make Sam jealous. He’s the one I’m supposed to end up with. The right one, or he will be when he lets his defenses down. He’s the one who will give me exactly what I need. It’s there in his eyes every time I stare into them, no matter what comes out of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Cas clears his throat. He’s staring down at me, questioning. His brow is still marred with worry, his eyes haunted.

“Yes.” Am I? Of course I am. This is nothing. A set back in the road to true love… with Sam. Not Cas. I’m just a bit twisted up with his hot and cold attitude. It confuses me, but it’s not like I like the guy.

“You can’t, we can’t let this happen again.” He turns his back on me. Goes back to the ovens on the other side of the kitchen. Where it’s safe. Away from me. Which is good, right? It’s exactly what I need too.

What just happened can’t occur again. It shouldn’t have transpired at all, but I can’t help myself. “Why not?”

“Because you want Sam,” he says, straight to the point, matter of fact, indifferently, despite the heat still flooding my veins from his touch.

“Oh.” Of course, that’s why. Maybe I am the only one who feels this intense attraction that kicks up between us when he drops his surliness. “Absolutely.”

“And because you’re the last woman I would ever want to be involved with. You already drive me fucking nuts.”

Ouch, that hurts, even if I do agree with him. Casper Morgan would never do for my dream man. There is one hell of a chip on his shoulder, and he’s bossy, grumpy, and mean. I’m glad he doesn’t want to get in the way of me and Sam. Glad, even if that feels a lot like an upset stomach. “You’re not a bag full of fun either.”

“We’re agreed then?”

“Yes, of course,” I say. Besides, Sam is already starting to come around. It’s only a matter of time before my perfect man falls for me. I have a plan, now I need to stick to it.