Page 49 of Almost Love

“Something tells me you don’t do shit like that enough.”

“Never had someone to do shit like that with,” she admitted softly.

“What about at the bakery?”

“That’s sacred ground. Besides, I’m not the only neurotic one in that kitchen.”

He chuckled softly. “Happy to be the one you do that with every time.”

She made a huffing sound, then pinched him in the side. He released her and watched as she untied her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders. But then his eyes drifted down to the front of her T-shirt that was now hugging her chest. He got his first glimpse at her nipples, because she wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock stiffened, but he didn’t look away. A few hours ago, he’d had one in the palm of his hand, her nipple between his fingers. Now, he had a pretty good look at them and he wanted it in his mouth.

“You’re such a man.”

He shrugged, still staring at her chest. “I think anybody with eyes would stare at your breasts if they were on display.”

“And for that, you’re on clean up duty.” She walked out of the kitchen and he pouted.

He smiled to himself as he opened cupboards until he found her mop and cleaned up his mess. He wiped the countertops down as well, making sure everything was put away before he headed to the bedroom. As much as he liked wearing Clementine’s clothes, he was also soaked and it wasn’t as attractive as she made it seem.

“Clem,” he said, knocking on the door and pushing it open, “do you have a spare sh—” the words died on his lips when he found her standing in the middle of the room in her underwear. “Jesus.”

“I don’t have a spare Jesus, but there should be more shirts in the drawer,” she said, flicking a hand at the other side of the room.

He nodded dumbly, unable to take his eyes off her. There were curves, then there was Clementine’s body. The dress from the night before had flaunted everything, but seeing every dip and curve made his mouth water. With her back to him, he could see the soft folds above her hips and the ones under her bra. He could see the dimples in her lower back, where he so desperately wanted to put his hand and also kiss her. The back of her supple thighs were riddled with stretch marks, but they tapered into strong legs. When she turned slightly, he focused on the soft pouch of her stomach that hung over the waistband of her underwear. And then up to the pink lace holding up the breasts he wanted to taste. Moving his eyes further up, he found her watching him curiously.

“You…are…exceptional,” he told her.

In true Clementine fashion, she rolled her eyes, but a small smile teased at her lips. “T-shirt.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t wear one. I like this look.”

This time, she snorted out a laugh and pulled on leggings. “Now that you’ve seen mine, do I get to see yours?”

“Yes, chef,” he mumbled and ripped off the wet T-shirt, dropping it to the floor.

She stared at him slack-jawed and he blushed. He used to work out back home, but since he got to Wildes, the most he did was running when the chaos in his head got loud. He’d also been eating more sugar than usual, so he wasn’t as defined. By the look on her face, Clementine still appreciated the view.

“Wow,” she mumbled, stepping towards him. “I think you should skip the shirt too.”

He pressed his lips together as her eyes did a full sweep of his torso and Oakley was glad she wasn’t looking lower; his dickhad a life of its own. He didn’t take his eyes off her face, enjoying being admired for the first time in a long time.

“What’s this?”

She pointed at the tattoo on the right side of his chest. Growing up, one of the things he and his father bonded over wasThe Lord of the Rings. They even created their own language—because Elvish seemed so much harder to learn or master—to communicate so nobody else in the house knew what they were talking about. While he wasn’t a big reader anymore, Oakley sometimes pulled up the audiobooks for the series and let it play in the background while he sketched. Despite the intensity of the books, it was a comfort for him.

Her finger traced the characters slowly as he said, “It says:There’s no point in living if you can’t feel alive. It’s written in Elvish, from the wonderful mind of Tolkien. Got it right after my last stint in rehab.”

He’d spent months researching and making sure that it was accurate. He’d even spoken to a Tolkien expert to make sure that it made sense. Oakley knew better than to get the wrong thing inked into his skin.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, palm pressed against his skin. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

His breath caught and he put his hand over hers. Their eyes connected briefly and she smiled before handing him a purple T-shirt.

“Want to bake with me?”

“Always.”

Something had happened between changing clothes and baking, and he wasn’t just talking about the half-naked moment in her bedroom. Clementine was strangely quiet. She didn’t meet his eyes, just moved around the kitchen gathering ingredients and dishes like he wasn’t there. He didn’t make a sound, listening intently as she took him through her donut making process. Oakley wanted them to go back to touching and kissing. With her hair gathered on top of her head, her neck was uncovered and he wanted to lick a line up her throat. Instead, he did what she asked him to do.

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