Page 21 of Strawberry Cake

“I could have wrapped it nicer.”

“I’ll make sure to have some wrapping paper and a bow nearby for next time.”

Decan brushed his thumb over her thigh, wishing she’d worn that dress again. The thought of her bare skin under his made his blood rush south. He closed his eyes, rolled his head back, and soaked up the moment. The movie played like white noise in the background.

“I used to race,” Decan finally said. He kept his eyes closed, unable to look at her. “I was a speed junky. My car was my whole identity and then four years ago, I wrapped myself around a concrete pole. Woke up to doctors telling me I would never walk again.”

Hope didn’t say anything, only pushed her hands under his shirt and flattened her palms against his stomach.

“Marco was actually the one to pull me from the wreck. He was the last thing I saw before I passed out. He stayed by my side the whole way through recovery. No matter how many heavy objects I threw at him, he picked up the pieces. He called me a jerk, but he stayed.”

Hope’s thumbs started to rub soothing shapes over his skin.

“I went to rehab, where they showed me that even though I wouldn’t be able to walk, I could stand if I worked hard enough. They ignored my bad moods, only cheering me on until I saw what I could do—what I could reach.”

“You’ve accomplished a lot in four years.” Hope’s praise was soft and timid, as if she wasn’t sure it would be appreciated.

“Thank you. It took me forever to accept the small victories.”

“Are you still going to physical therapy?”

“Like clockwork. Every two weeks.” He sighed and finally opened his eyes to see her face tilted down, gaze focused on her hands. “I haven’t been with a woman since the accident.”

“If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s too late.”

“I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“Well, I haven’t been with a guy in some time.” Decan sighed, but she didn’t let him counter. “We’ll figure it out. Baby steps.”

Unable to resist anymore, Decan cupped her cheek and pulled her into a soft, gentle kiss. Hope leaned into his palm right away, leaving no doubt that she wanted—even needed—the kiss as much as he did. One hand pushed up to rest on his sternum while the other reached for his neck, her fingers spearing through his hair.

When she pulled back, she struggled to catch her breath. “I don’t want you to worry. I want to see where this thing goes.”

He pulled her into another kiss, needing to feel, needing tobreatheher words. She melted into his touch, giving Decan her full weight. Blood rushed through his veins, filling his cock and making it swell. He tried to focus on the warmth spreading from her touch rather than the building need between his thighs. He didn’t want to think about sex, not now. Not when being close to her felt this good.

Hope, however, seemed to have other plans. Her body shifted on his lap, grinding against his rapidly hardening erection.

“Hope,” he warned, brushing a thumb over her cheek.

“Too pushy?” she asked, pulling away again. “Sorry.”

He tightened his arm around her waist to hold her in place. “I didn’t say you could move.” This time when she bit her lip, he used his thumb to pull it free. His other hand slid over her waist and around to her ass where he grabbed her tightly. “But maybe next time you should wear a dress again.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

He hummed, his chest vibrating against hers. Hope did seem to enjoy him asking, maybe even begging for things he wanted. “Please, sweet, gorgeous Hope? Would you give me the pleasure of wearing a dress next time we see each other?” And if he had to be honest, helovedbegging for her.

“I only have that one,” she admitted, cheeks warming beneath his palm.

“The one you wore on Tuesday?”

Hope nodded.

“And why is that?”

“I try to avoid wearing them. My thighs rub up against each other.”

“Were you uncomfortable?”

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