Page 94 of Desserts for Stressed People

“We need to...stop. This is too much. It’s all too much.”

His eyes roam over my face, like he’s trying to understand, trying to get his brain to focus. Mine can’t either. It’s too distracted by him, his smell of chocolate and man, and his perfect body.

“Okay,” he says, his hand moving away from my leg. He cups my face and drags his lips to mine, slowly enveloping me with his mouth.

Before I know it, I’m softly biting his lips, rubbing myself on him as his fingers dig into my thighs. We can’t help it, or at least, I can’t.

“Hmm—wait,” he whispers when I wrap my arms around his neck. I can’t, though. He tastes so good. His tongue is so sinful, his lips so velvety. “Wait, Heav—”

I kiss him again, grinding on him until he grunts. The noise goes straight to my soul, so I rock my hips back and forth again. Another grunt.

“God, Heaven,” he whispers, holding onto my hips to still me, and we stare at each other with a twinkle in our eyes, a smile opening up both our faces.

“You sound like a telegram from a priest.”

“It’s not my fault your name is ridiculous.”

I backslap his firm chest. “Shut up. You love it.”

With a sigh, he grazes his lips on mine again. “I do.”

I think we’ll continue making out like teenagers, but he stands and grabs his shirt. There’s chocolate in his ear and I’m sure there’s chocolate everywhere on me—I can see some on my toes.

When his shirt is on, he offers me his hand and pulls me up, then he wraps his arms around me as his lips press to my forehead. “I’m sorry things got a little—umm...”

“I’m not. It was really fun.”

He pecks my temple. “Yes. But I got carried away. I know you just broke up with that little shit, and this place...” He shrugs. “How about I officially ask you on a date?”

“Officially?”

His hands travel to the small of my back. “Officially. I’ll notify the HR department and all. I’ll even have Marina add it to my calendar.”

I press my forehead to his chest and shake my head with a giggle. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, but I will. And I’ll make everyone call you Miss Asshole.”

“Stop it,” I complain when his arms hold tight around my shoulders and he doesn’t let me pull away. “Maybe I’ll get everyone to call you Mr. Nice instead.”

He finally lets me go and shakes his head. “I don’t see that happening, Heaven.”

I walk back to him, regretting moving away from his hug, and when I do, he welcomes me back into his arms. His hands move back to the spot on my lower back that’s still tingling from his touch, and I’m once again pressed against his chest.

I want to know more about this date. Not about locations, logistics. What we’re doing or who we are telling. I don’t know and don’t care. I want to knowwhen. When are we going on this date? How long do I have to wait?

Soon we’re kissing again. Maybe now that we started, that’s all we can do, and I’m more than fine with it. So fine it’s stupid.

When my fingers entangle through his hair, I’m sure. This is my favorite place in the world.

* * *

The noiseof the doorbell distracts us enough to stop kissing, both of us turning to the entrance.

“Are you expecting someone?” Shane asks, and I know where his mind is at. Mine is thinking about the same thing. Could that be Alex?

“No.” I sigh and move to the buzzer. “Hello?”

Out of the intercom comes a loud, bubbly voice. “Hello! I’ve got food and booze! Let me in!”

---