Page 25 of Maybe This Time
Slipping out of bed, I grabbed the white button-down shirt I’d ripped off him last night after the dinner I’d organized to celebrate the opening of T’s Sweets tomorrow and shrugged it on.
My heart still fluttered at the memory. He’d kept the name of his shop a secret from everyone during the renovations and had finally revealed it last night in front of all our friends and family.
I didn’t think it was possible to love him more, only for him to name his lifelong dream after me.
With a ridiculous grin on my face, I clipped my hair back with a claw clip and padded down the stairs of my house—well,ourhouse. It hadn’t taken long after we started dating for Ezra to move in despite the fact that he had just signed a one-year lease on a shiny new apartment downtown. I’d suggested we wait despite the move being my idea, but he’d shut it down quickly. Instead, he’d bribed his would-be landlord with a lifetime supply of pastries from his new shop in exchange for breaking his lease.
The next day, Ezra had packed his things and made himself at home here.
For some, it might have seemed too fast, but I’d known Ezra my whole life and didn’t want to wait. Six months later, I still woke up every morning with butterflies in my stomach and stars in my eyes.
I was so in love with him and the life we were sharing that sometimes evenImade myself sick.
Shuffling toward the kitchen, I found Etta James playing softly through the speakers while Ezra kneaded dough, lost in his own little baking world. He was barefoot, wearing a fitted black T-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders and thosetiny running shorts that made his ass look even more delicious than the rest of him.
I stood there for a moment, admiring the way his muscles flexed with each movement, reminding myself that he was all mine. Sometimes I had to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t another dream.
“It should be illegal how you make kneading dough look like porn.”
Startled, he looked over his shoulder. His furrowed brows softened the instant he saw me, and the smile he gave me shot straight to my heart. “If it leads to being inside you, I’ll act out anything you want,” he replied, slapping the dough.
I burst out laughing, my cheeks flushed as I walked over and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’ll shelve that for later,” I said, grinning up at him.
“Morning.”
“Morning, my love.” He dropped a kiss to the top of my head.
I started to head behind the island to let him work—and admire the view too—but he stopped me immediately, effortlessly lifting me onto the counter beside him.
“Ezra, your shirt,” I scolded, brushing off the flour he’d just gotten all over it.
He only shrugged and kissed my forehead. “That’s what washing machines are for. And I didn’t hear you complaining when I spread you over the kitchen counter last week when you interrupted me in the middle of making danishes.”
I gasped and smacked his shoulder. “That’s unfair. You were half-naked and breathing heavily while whipping the strawberries.”
My body flushed at the memory of his hands all over me, chocolate and strawberry coulis being licked off places it probably shouldn’t have been.
Ezra smirked, swiftly finishing his dough before storing it away with practiced ease.
“Anything you want to do today?” he asked, fitting himself between my legs. His fingers skimmed my thighs as he planted his hands on either side of me.
Sundays were ours. It was the one day of the week when we both forgot about the world and our responsibilities to spend the entire day together without any distractions.
I lopped my arms around his shoulders and gave him a small shrug. “I can think of a few things.”
“God, woman. You’re ravenous.” His teasing faltered into a hitched breath when I leaned in, stopping just a whisper from his lips.
I grinned, dragging my mouth across his. “You love it.”
“I love you.”
I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks ached from smiling. “I love you, too, silly.”
His eyes softened. “I have something for you.”
I tilted my head, anticipation buzzing through me. “Oh yeah?” Ezra always planned some sort of date for our Sundays and he found a way to surprise me each time.
He shifted, digging something from his pocket. I craned my neck to peek over his shoulder. I tried to spy what he had in his fist, but he’d closed it in his palm.
