Page 33 of Affinity

His hand stilled on the grass. “Who doesn’t like cookies?”

“Assholes.” Greg didn’t have a sweet tooth. I should have known then there was something wrong with him, and we could never work.

“I agree,” he lightly chuckled. Jenner sprung up and walked beside me into the kitchen. His eyes followed me as I pulled out everything I’d need to make the yummy peanut buttery goodness and started to put it all together. “You don’t need a recipe or something to do that?”

Cracking an egg into the bowl, I shook my head. “I’ve made these more times than I can count. It’s all in here.” I tapped my temple.

“I’ve never seen anyone make cookies from scratch.”

It seemed like he’d never seen anyone make anything before. It was strange to think in some ways he’d lived a sheltered life. I couldn’t imagine never having cookies fresh from the oven before. Not getting melted chocolate on your fingertips and licking it off.

My hands stilled as a thought came to me. “You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?” If he was, I would make him some other type of cookie and keep these all to myself.

“No . . . were you hoping to kill me with your cookies?”

Meeting his eyes, I saw them crinkle in the corners. My gaze slid down to his mouth, where his lips were set in a mischievous smile. “No, I would have made you a different type.”

“That’s nice of you. What type would you have made me?” He cocked his head to the side as he watched me mix all the ingredients together.

“I’m not sure. Maybe snickerdoodles. They’re another favorite of mine.”

While I scooped out the dough and put it on a baking sheet, Jenner stood silently watching my every move. Who knew something so simple could render him speechless?

“How do you feel about chicken parmesan for dinner?” No matter how much I wanted to, I wasn’t going to only eat cookies for dinner.

“Sounds like perfection.” His voice was full of awe.

Pulling out all the ingredients, I got the chicken ready to place in the other oven. I wasn’t sure why he had two ovens when he never cooked, but I wasn’t going to complain. It made cooking tonight that much easier.

“Did you cook like this for your ex?”

When I looked up at him, Jenner almost looked embarrassed for asking the question.

My brows furrowed at his question. Was he jealous he wasn’t the only man I’d ever cooked for? Because that would be ridiculous; our relationship was as fake as ninety percent of the breasts in LA. Getting back to the task at hand, I coated the chicken. “Not very often since we didn’t live together, but when I lived with my brother, I cooked for him. Why?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked up to find his gaze fastened to the swell of my breasts. The tank top I’d slipped on over my bikini accentuated how large they were.

Wanting to fuck with him since he didn’t seem to be listening or paying attention to what I’d been doing, I shimmied my chest, making my breast jiggle. Jenner damn near drooled before he pulled himself out of his stupor.

“Your ex was an idiot. If I had those tits making me dinner even occasionally, I would have kept you all to myself.” He stood straight abruptly. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

I had a sneaking suspicion he was going to go jack off in the shower. If my cookies weren’t almost done, I would have made my way outside to see if I was right. Instead, I stayed in the kitchen, growing uncomfortable as the space between my legs dampened, imagining what was going on in his bathroom. How hard he gripped his shaft and slid his hand up and down–the water gliding down his chiseled body.

The beep of the timer broke me from my fantasy. I wiped my now sweaty hands on the towel before I pulled out the heavenly peanut butter cookies. I’d barely put them on the cooling rack when Jenner popped his head around the corner with a dreamy look on his face. He walked with purpose over to the cookies before picking one up and shoving almost the entire thing into his mouth.

Jenner let out a low groan that sent tingles through my body. “These are so fucking good. They’re so warm and . . . damn, I want these every day for the rest of my life. Do you think there’s a possibility you baked me some cookies the night we got married?”

Why couldn’t he always be like this? I loved it when he was sweet and endearing. Too bad his asshole side won out more often than not.

“I doubt it, but maybe I told you of my baking prowess, making you fall into lust with me.”

“That must be it,” he said around a bite of cookie. Crumbs tumbled from his lips and onto the counter. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop eating these until they’re gone.”

“I probably shouldn’t mention there’s another batch in the oven, then should I?” It was a good thing he had a double oven. I had a feeling I was going to be baking quite a bit in my foreseeable future.

He patted his rock-hard abs. “I’m definitely going to need to up my workouts.”

I wasn’t going to complain if I got to see him come home a hot, sweaty mess to then dive into the pool. Or maybe I’d work up the nerve to take a peek at him while he was in the shower.

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