I’d prefer to rock her world in other ways, but until that could happen, I’d take my frustrations out on the dough I was thumping.
She dipped her finger in the cinnamon sugar I’d made and sucked on the tip before she did the damnedest thing—she stepped behind me and slipped her arms around my waist. Then, Ama made shit a thousand times better, enough for me to forgive her calling me by my real goddamn name, by sliding her hands under my cut and tee, and pressing skin against skin.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t the first time we’d touched, but hell, this shit was more intimate than I’d ever imagined. It made things seem real, and for a man who’d always calculated real as how many times he’d fucked, shit was hitting home in my head just how this thing with Ama was going to be.
“Why did you tense up?” she mumbled, pressing her face between my shoulder blades. I definitely got the impression her eyes were closed and she was fighting sleep, a notion that had my lips twitching.
“Not tense,” I countered.
“Feel like it,” she groused. “Why?”
“Just thinking that I’ve never done this before.” And I hadn’t. Not just with her, but with every woman in my life. Well, save for Dorie, my stepma.
“Oh.” She fell silent. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Good.” The breath she released was shaky, and her arms tightened around my waist as she clung to me. “Why are you baking?”
That was a good question.
“Just felt like it.”
She sniffed. “You and me both know the flour comes out only when you’re stressed.”
“Lots going on,” I countered, returning to my bashing the cinnamon roll dough I was making at the moment.
“Sure is.” She huffed. “And I’m in the dark.”
“For your own good, baby doll,” I replied instantly, feeling no shame at the words. It was true—no way was I telling her anything that might frighten her.
“Mebbe.” She fell silent once more, and again, I started to figure she was sleeping. I didn’t mind being used as a vertical bed. It felt quite good actually.
Would she have done this before? Before I’d agreed to be a part of this madcap relationship?
I didn’t think so. She definitely wouldn’t have pressed her arms around my bare belly like she was and, if I turned around, I knew she’d be half-undressed, which was also something she wouldn’t have done before.
Not that a vest tee and short shorts was exactly going overboard…
A smile curved my lips at the thought. “Remember when you used to wear girly dresses?”
She snorted. “What? When I was six?”
“Yeah. You used to play tag and shit in them too. Was cute as fuck.”
A disgruntled noise escaped her. “Don’t care what your kinks are, babe, I’m not wearing frilly dresses again.”
Laughter escaped me, so hard that I leaned forward jerkily and accidentally knocked her away. Spinning around to face her, I saw her crumpled self and beamed a grin at her. “Well, hell, if I’d been in a bad mood before, I sure as fuck ain’t now.”
“What did I do?”
I reached up and purposefully pressed my flour-laden fingers to her cheek. “You were just yourself.”
She blinked up at me. “You’re being nice.”
“I’m always nice,” I retorted easily, leaning back against the counter to stare at her. “It’s a part of my character. In fact, it’s an integral part.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to sell shit to a farmer,” she pshawed. “You’re never nice.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Now I’m really worried.”
I snorted. “Nothing’s wrong.” I lifted my hands. “I swear.”
A hum escaped her, then she peered at the counter and the mess I’d made. “You haven’t cooked for me in ages.”
“Thought since you’re my woman now, it would be a nice way to start the day.”
Her gray eyes grew big and round. As big and round as the perfect ‘O’ her mouth made as she gaped at me. Her throat bobbed as she whispered, “Your woman?”
My lips twitched as I nodded. Slowly.
She gulped. “I love the sound of that.”
Fuck, I did too. And her response to it? Shit, that just made things a thousand times better.
“Been wanting to call you that for a long time, sugar,” I rasped. It wasn’t like me to feel awkward, but I did at that minute. I wasn’t sure why. I wanted to haul her against me, tuck her into my side, but I didn’t. Even though I wanted to.