so I can feel him, drawing a gasp from me. “Works like a charm.”
“I have to finish these.”
“Can I help?” Connor picks up the rolling pin, wielding it like a sword instead of a baking tool.
“Here, you can mix this.” I set him up with one of the bowls and start another so I can chill more dough at once.
We work in comfortable quiet for a while. Having Connor here is nice, like I’m letting him into my haven, but he’s more of a hindrance than actual help. He keeps stealing kisses and eating the dough, and he’s much messier than I am. But his muscles come in handy for mixing, since the one thing I don’t have is a standing mixer. I’m having a good time with him anyway as we murmur over batches of rolled out dough.
I like this. I like who Connor is here, in the moonlight. He’s more real with me alone in the dark, but at school he’s still the vicious king of secrets the students and teachers fear. Knowing what I do about his family situation, I think I understand why he’s so hell-bent on being the keeper of people’s deepest secrets. But I hope he’ll drop that wall someday, to share this Connor with the world.
The one who paints Nutella on my cheek so he can hold my face while he licks it off, making my heart flutter with joy.
While we’re working, he keeps making vulgar things with the excess dough scraps—boobs, a dick, the poop emoji. He makes me laugh so hard I have to crouch down and muffle my amusement so Mom doesn’t hear and come to investigate. Constantine watches our antics from his bed, his deep brown eyes dancing back and forth between us.
As I’m rolling out the next dough, this one a chocolate shortbread I plan to dip in white chocolate, Connor smacks my ass with flour-covered hands.
“Hey!” Holding my arms up, I twist to find a big flour handprint on my black workout shorts. “I’m so getting you back for that.”
“Can’t be helped. You’ve got these hot little booty shorts on.”
“You have no self restraint. Just a one-track mind.”
With a chuckle, Connor jumps out of reach when I swipe at him with the flour from the bowl by my rolling station. I hunt him around the island and he flashes me a sneaky look as I make my move, trapping me in his arms before I can dump flour down his shirt.
“Got you,” he murmurs before kissing me.
I shift around in his arms to kiss him properly, our tongues sliding together. He kisses the curve of my smile, unsuspecting until I smash flour in his hair.
“What the—” Connor’s eyes are wide in shock as I choke on my victorious laughter. “Okay, Kennedy. I see how it is.”
“Wait—babe, don’t!” I retreat before he can retaliate against me with the jar of Nutella, my hands raised in surrender.
He narrows his eyes, but concedes. “Okay, truce. But I get another kiss.”
After Connor claims his bounty with another kiss that leaves me breathless, he lets me return to baking.
“You really like this stuff,” he says, leaning against the sink as I put another tray of cookies in the oven. “You’re good at it, too.”
I toss a quick smile over my shoulder, flushed from his praise. “Thanks. I’ve always loved it. Before I could even reach the counter. When I was little, my grandma used to pull up a chair so I could watch and help while she taught me her recipes.” I nod to the notebook I have on the other side of the island. “That one has a lot of her old ones in it. I’ve tweaked some over the years. I’m always tinkering with them.”
His mouth quirks up at the corner as I tell my story. “Is that what you’re always carrying around? I swear I see you with a different notebook every day.”
“Yeah. I’ve probably filled hundreds of them by now. Mom used to get so annoyed when we’d be out grocery shopping or whatever and I’d beg for a new notebook I saw.” I shake my head. “But I have enough to open my own bakery someday. It’s my dream. Feed the world with happiness. And sugar.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. You’ll do amazing at it. Does your grandma approve of your improvements to her recipes?”
A pang pierces my heart. “She did, but she’s passed. Right before freshman year.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, baby.” Connor pops out of his relaxed position and