The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,68

glasses, peering over my shoulder. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“I have a pool table,” he said, throwing me off. “Wanna play?”

“Um, sure?” I removed my coat and winter items. “Is there somewhere to hang these?”

“Hooks in the laundry room.”

I took my things in there and hung them on one of the empty hooks. Turning around, I walked right into Seb who was doing the same thing.

“Sorry,” I breathed, my face practically smooshed into his chest.

“It’s fine.” He looked down at me, lips curved up. “You’ll survive.”

“Mhmm.” I darted around him and back into the kitchen. “You need to help me find stuff to make dessert.”

“I have to make dinner,” he said, coming back in after me. “I can’t chase your dessert around.”

“I don’t know where anything is!”

“There might be stuff to bake a cake in that cabinet.” He pointed in the general area of three cabinets.

That narrowed it down.

“This one?’ I opened the first one. It was full of pasta and spaghetti and other non-perishables.

“No, that one.”

“That one?” I opened a second only to find bottles of water all lined up in neat rows. “Ah. I like that one.”

“Thought you might,” he muttered. “That one.”

Finally following his direction properly, I saw the high cabinet he was talking about. “I can’t reach that, Sebastian.”

He gave a long-suffering sigh and put down the onion. Before I could move, he was behind me, stretching up to the cabinet. It was so high that he was able to open it without the door so much as brushing the top of my head, but it could have beat me for all it mattered.

Because his body was right against mine, and I was all but pinned to the lower cabinet doors.

“What are you doing?” I breathed, trying not to focus on how his cock was pressing against my lower back.

And getting harder.

A lot harder.

“Getting the baking box down,” he answered. “It’s at the back.”

Sure.

Sure.

“You have a baking box?”

He pressed his body fully into mine. “Got it.” He slid it out of the cabinet and pulled it down. “It’s technically not mine, it’s my mother’s.”

“I don’t know if I want to use that.”

“She put it there two months ago and forgot about it. Go wild.” He swung the door shut again and put the box on the counter, finally freeing me from being pressed against his penis.

I swallowed hard and turned away so I could examine the box. He laughed, but I was going to pretend I didn’t hear him. He obviously knew he had the makings of a pretty serious erection and wasn’t bothered by it at all.

That’s fine.

Neither was I.

Nope.

Not bothered.

Not at all.

Ahem.

I rifled through the box and pulled out all the ingredients for chocolate brownies. I was pretty impressed by the contents of the baking box, if I was honest. It was a cool spread, more than I had in my own kitchen.

I side-eyed Sebastian. “This is your box, isn’t it?”

“I told you. It’s my mom’s.”

“The flour is open, baller.”

“Fine. It’s mine.” He turned around with his hands on his hips. “I bake. Is that a problem?”

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I burst out laughing.

“This was a terrible idea,” he muttered.

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing ever!” I laughed, leaning on the huge island where he was dicing garlic.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“What do you mean? You baking cookies has to be the best thought that’s entered my head all day.”

He paused in his dicing and peered up at me. “Really? Everything we’ve done today, and that’s what gets you?”

“Do you have a little apron?”

“Holley.”

“Well? Do you? If not, can I buy you one for Christmas?”

“I regret this wholeheartedly.”

“Me coming here or admitting that you bake cookies?”

“It’s not something I do a lot,” he said, returning to his garlic. “I used to bake with my grandma, and she passed some recipes down. I usually only do it for family stuff like Thanksgiving or Christmas or something. I don’t have a lot of time for it.”

I put my forearms on the counter overhang and grinned. “How did I never know that?”

“It’s not something I broadcast.”

“Should I be doing the lasagna while you do the brownies, or…?”

He tossed the garlic in the pan with the ground beef. “Go and bake your brownies, Holley, before I change my mind about having you as my dinner date.”

“Dinner date, eh? I knew you had ulterior motives here.”

“Me? Surely not.”

“Mhmm.” I pulled all the baking stuff to the island and set out what