Baking Lessons Read online

  Glancing at Hamilton, she realized that she didn’t mind missing out on the night out so much. She’d take an early bedtime with him over any club or bar. The only problem was that she didn’t know if he wanted to stay. In fact, she didn’t even know how he felt about her. While she wanted to tear off all of his clothes and have her way with him, he might not be on the same wavelength. It was highly possible that she was just a responsibility to him, a dull task he had to complete because he felt it was his duty to keep her safe from possible stalkers. He was just so darn hard to read.

  “So...” She eyed him carefully, trying to catch any signals that he was reluctant to hang around. “Want to play a game, or do you need to get home?”

  He paused for an uncomfortably long moment, his unreadable gaze locked on her. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

  A burst of excitement flared inside her, and she gave him an impulsive hug. “Oh, good!” Knowing she had sounded much too thrilled, she dropped her arms and stepped back, regretting the loss of his hard chest pressed against her. “Are you sure? I know that a night of board games and an early bedtime sounds like an average night at a nursing home, and I hate to drag you down with me.”

  Hamilton didn’t respond. Apparently, the hug had silenced him, and, by the way he was staring at her, his eyes hot, it wasn’t because he was feeling awkward. To break the loaded silence, she turned toward the shelf holding her and Annabelle’s limited selection of board games. It seemed like a better idea than watching a movie like they had the previous night. No matter what was on the screen, she didn’t think she’d be able to concentrate on the television rather than on the man—the extremely hot man who’d cuddled her in her bed the night before—sitting next to her.

  Her gaze landed on the perfect game. “Scrabble?” she asked, pulling the box from the stack. Scrabble had to be the least sexy of all the games. After all, how would she be able to think about jumping her sexy, socially awkward landlord and kind-of friend if she was trying to think of how to use J, X and Z in a word?

  Chapter Eight

  How wrong she was. Not only did her brain keep looping dirty thoughts about different sexual positions she could try with Hamilton, but her letters weren’t helping at all. It seemed like her vocabulary had been reduced to sexual innuendos, and all her letters could form were words like filthy and lust and penis and thrust, no matter how she rearranged them.

  It didn’t help that Hamilton was kicking her butt at the game, either. At each turn, he arranged the tiles in perfect rows that spelled out SAT-worthy words that raked in a gazillion points. She’d known he was smart, but he was so darn literate. Every time he played some brilliant word, looking adorably pleased with himself, Leah felt her panties getting wetter and wetter. Who knew that intelligence turned her on so much?

  “Remind me never to play Scrabble with you again,” she mock-growled after he’d played his last—and winning—turn. He gave her a quick glance, and she winked at him, letting him know she was only teasing. In reality, she would play anything with him. It seemed that Hamilton was her addiction.

  Once they’d put the board and tiles away much more neatly than Leah would’ve done on her own, she reached her arms over her head in a full-body stretch, twisting slightly from side to side as her spine popped quietly. Bending forward, she held on to her elbows and let her head dangle toward the floor.

  “Would you like to sleep here again?” she asked, taking advantage of her face being hidden so he couldn’t see how hot her cheeks had gotten. When there wasn’t a response, she straightened and looked at him.

  He was eyeing her carefully. “On the couch?”

  Her face was going to catch fire she was blushing so much. “Sure, or we can share again. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m fine with either, so...either’s fine.” With a mental, self-directed groan, she forced herself to stop talking.

  The following silence didn’t help her nerves, and she pressed her tongue against her teeth, battling the urge to break it. Anything she said would just reveal either how much she wanted him to sleep with her or how nervous she was about that idea, and she didn’t want to share either of those things.

  He studied her, his face still and emotionless, like he was made out of stone. There were tiny signs that his stoicism was a front, though. His left lower eyelid twitched slightly, and he shifted his weight in an almost invisible motion. Leah caught it, though. She couldn’t look away from him, and every time she noticed one of those tiny indicators of his real feelings, she felt victorious, like she’d solved a puzzle and won something substantial.

  “I’m heading out.” Annabelle’s announcement made both Hamilton and Leah jump and look away from each other. She gave Leah a quick side hug on her way to the door, and Leah squeezed her back, struggling to act normally. It felt like she and Hamilton had been staring at each other for hours, and she felt a little dazed.

  “Have fun.” She must have sounded odd, since Annabelle stopped and turned to give her a penetrating look. Worried that Annabelle would try to start a conversation in front of Hamilton, Leah bugged her eyes out at her, trying to convey I’ll-tell-you-everything-later in a look. Annabelle responded with a fine-but-you-will-spill-everything stare, and Leah gave an I-promise-just-leave-already eye roll.

  Annabelle must have accepted that nonverbal answer, because she opened the front door. “See you later!”

  “Bye.” As the door closed, Leah slowly turned back toward Hamilton. The awkward silence had just been waiting for Annabelle to leave before it snuck back in, it seemed. Giving herself a mental goose, she pushed herself to act like an adult. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome...” Her throat closed up before she could finish. You’re welcome to join me? her brain repeated mockingly. What kind of cheesy line was that? He was looking at her now, waiting for her to finish her sentence, and she racked her brain for something innocuous to say, finally settling on “Feel free to sleep wherever you like.”

  Before he could answer and fluster her even more, she pivoted and rushed toward her bedroom. Grabbing sleep shorts and a tank top, she headed for the bathroom, all while lecturing herself. Why was she acting like a nervous virgin? It wasn’t like she had a ton of experience, but she was falling apart at the very thought of a fully clothed Hamilton sharing her bed with her. Besides, he hadn’t followed her in. She’d probably leave the bathroom to find him snoring away on the couch.

  The pang of disappointment at that thought made her want to shriek with frustration. What did she want?

  Hamilton. The answer popped up in her mind immediately. She wanted him, and he... Well, he seemed like he was attracted to her, although she wasn’t sure to what extent. He was so hard to read compared to most men she knew, and he acted in unexpected ways. After ignoring her for a few days, he suddenly went into protector mode and then crawled into bed with her, spooning with her and calling her LeeLee.

  Goose bumps prickled her arms as she remembered the feel of him plastered against her back. Calm down, she told herself sternly, pointing her toothbrush at her reflection. Get it together, girl. You’re a sad, sad mess right now.

  She was a sad, sad mess, caught in a does-he-like-me-or-not spiral of horny insecurity. She needed to just ask him what he wanted and tell him how she felt, but the idea of it made her body flush with predicted embarrassment.

  “It’s hard to be a grown-up,” she grumbled under her breath, her words muffled by toothpaste.

  When she was ready for bed, she didn’t allow herself to hesitate, but charged back into her bedroom. It was empty, and it wasn’t until her stomach flattened like a deflating balloon that she realized how much she’d wanted Hamilton to be waiting for her in bed, like the best sheet-wrapped present ever.

  Crawling under the covers, she tried to push away the disappointment, telling herself to enjoy the lack of drama that more Hamilton cuddle time would have given birth to. Her mental pep talk didn’t
help, though. The bed felt chilly and lonely and much too big. Giving a huff of annoyance at her whiny self, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes tightly. It was a perfectly nice bed, and, until last night, she’d been content by herself in it. Stupid Hamilton and his hot, hard body and his excessive cuddling tendencies. If she hadn’t experienced how nice it felt to sleep with him, she wouldn’t be missing him now.

  Just as Leah’s whirling thoughts started to settle down, the toilet flushed in the bathroom, and her eyes popped open again. The water turned on as she stared into the dimness, mentally following what he was doing. She tried—and failed—not to imagine him. Was he shirtless? In just his boxer briefs? Naked?

  With a groan, she flipped onto her other side. She needed to sleep. Her alarm would be going off much too early, and she’d be a wreck if she kept lying there, thinking about Hamilton. Sleep felt very far away at the moment, though. Her blood buzzed under her skin, and she was wet and pulsing between her legs. Her hand skimmed over her belly, lighting up all the nerve endings, and slid under the waistband of her shorts before she caught herself.

  Was she actually going to touch herself with Hamilton just a thin wall away? Any moan or even a loud sigh could be heard anywhere in the apartment. If she came, he’d hear it. Her skin got hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as her hand withdrew from her shorts and balled into a fist on her belly. Would he listen? Would the sound of her getting off excite him? Would he slide his hand up and down his—

  The bed jostled, and she sat up with a startled yelp. Hamilton paused, one foot on the ground and a knee on the bed. She couldn’t read his expression in the dimness, but his posture was hesitant.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, shifting back and pulling his knee off the mattress.

  “No!” Without thinking, she lunged forward and caught his wrist. Once she caught him, she stilled, not sure what to do next. Her only thought had been to stop him from leaving. She wanted him in her bed, however she could get him. “I was... You startled me a little, that’s all. Lie down and sleep. Two-thirty comes quickly.”

  He hadn’t moved, and his wrist was tense in her grip. “I can sleep on the couch.”

  “No.” It had come out too quickly, revealing so much, but Leah didn’t care. The short time she’d spent alone in her bed had shown her how much she wanted him to share it. If they just slept, that was okay. If they did more, that would be... Well, most likely it would be amazing and incredible and ruin her for all other men. “Stay.”

  His breath caught audibly, and she realized that she’d loosened her grip on him and was running her fingers up and down his wrist, the motion uncomfortably similar to something she’d like to do on another one of his body parts. Her hand went still, and she immediately missed the feel of his skin sliding against her fingers.

  She gave his arm a tug, gently urging him forward, and he moved, sliding into bed next to her. Reluctantly, she released his wrist, letting her fingertips brush against his hand as long as she could manage. He settled under the covers, and a thrill made her tremble, because he was right next to her in bed again, even if his body was still too far away.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered, turning onto her side so she was facing away from him. She could feel the heat of him immediately, and she squeezed her eyes closed. If it had been hard getting her brain to shut off when she’d been all lonely and cold, it was going to be even tougher with his beautiful self stretched out next to her.

  “’Night.” His voice was low and rumbly, and she shut her eyes hard and bit the tip of her thumb. Even his voice was tempting.

  Then there was silence, except for the constant spin of conflicting voices in her head, giving her unwanted advice. She fought to calm down so she could sleep, but her brain and body weren’t cooperating. It was aggravating, because Hamilton’s breathing had deepened, the soft almost-snores a pretty definite sign that he was sleeping.

  The bed frame creaked slightly as he rolled toward her, and a heavy arm draped over her waist. Her eyes shot open again. With a sleepy grumble, he pulled her toward him, shifting over until they were in the same position as the night before—big spoon and little spoon. Not only could she not sleep, but she suddenly couldn’t breathe either. As she realized the problem, she inhaled, trying to keep it silent so she didn’t wake him. Things got weird and stiff and awkward when they were both conscious.

  Hamilton’s arms latched around her middle, and he pulled her tight against him. His nose was buried in her hair where it slid over her neck. Taking a deep, silent breath, she let it out slowly, grasping for calm. It was just cuddling. She couldn’t freak out about a platonic, sleepy snuggle.

  Even as she relaxed slightly, he flattened his hand on her lower belly and slid it under her tank top. His roughened palm ran along her sensitive skin, skimming her belly button before heading toward her breasts. She froze, knowing she needed to stop him, to grab his wrist and pull it out from under her top. The problem was that she didn’t want to do that. His hand felt amazing, and her muscles tensed in anticipation as it moved closer and closer to her breast. Was it wrong of her to enjoy this, to wallow in the syrupy sweetness of his touch and heat?

  His fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, and she nearly flew off the bed. Canting her hips, she tucked her ass back so that it snugged more firmly into his crotch. He jerked, his hand slipping out from underneath her top and grasping her upper thigh, pulling her tighter against him. His erection was obvious, the hardness pressing in between her cheeks.

  “Jesus, LeeLee...” He groaned, his fingers denting her thigh. Everything was hard, even rough—his hand, his hold, his cock—but nothing pushed over the line into pain. It felt so good, and Leah couldn’t stop her hips from grinding against him. “You feel so good.”

  His voice had a sleepy slur to it, pulling Leah out of her needy haze. Last night, he’d crawled into bed with her without realizing what he was doing. Was he in that same state now? If she allowed it to continue, would he wake up and be disgusted at what they’d done?

  “Ham,” she said, his name coming out as a croak. Reaching down, she covered his hand with hers, intending to gently remove it from her leg. When she touched him, however, his fingers tightened briefly before slipping higher on her thigh, underneath her sleep shorts. Her fingers gripped his, but she didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, she urged his hand even closer to her desperate pussy.

  His fingertips brushed over the crotch of her panties, making her catch her breath. The next stroke drew out a moan. Back and forth, pressing harder and softer and then harder again, making her crazy despite—or maybe because of—the layer of soaked fabric that muffled his touch.

  As he touched her panty-covered pussy, his hips still worked, grinding his cock against her ass. His lips found her pounding pulse on the side of her neck, and he kissed her there. Too many sensations shoved at her, and she tried to keep her mind working, but pleasure was pushing away rational thought. In a final last-ditch effort, she caught his hand again and held it.

  His fingers stilled as Leah focused on dragging enough air into her lungs so she could talk. “Ham?”

  “Hmm?” His teeth were now nibbling on the top line of her shoulder, which didn’t help her concentration.

  “Are you awake?” Desperation made her ask a little loudly. If he wasn’t, she’d need to stop him immediately, before they got to the point that she couldn’t think any longer.

  He made a sound that couldn’t really be considered a yes, and it confirmed that she might be making out with a sleep zombie.

  “Hamilton,” she said, shoving as much sternness into her voice as she could manage with a hot man’s cock shoved against her ass. “You need to wake up before we can do this.”

  His body went still, just like it had when he’d woken up the day before, and Leah wanted to cry. Why hadn’t she used his sleeping body
to get off before she made him wake up? It was too late now. He’d be all prim and proper and appalled at the pair of them, most likely, and her figurative chastity belt would snap right back on.

  “I apologize,” he said, and her heart sank at his stiff words. She didn’t want him to be sorry about touching her—she wanted more. “I wasn’t aware... If I did anything you didn’t want...”

  I wish he would finish what he started! “It was fine,” she said instead. “I was just worried that you were sleepwalking again. Well, not really walking, more...” When she realized where her answer was going to lead her, she clamped her mouth shut without finishing the thought.

  “I’m awake now.” There it was. His even, precise way of speaking confirmed that he was well and truly awake and, if his tone was accurate, he was mortified at his current position with his face in her neck and his hand up her shorts and his cock wedged in her crack.

  “That’s good.” Her voice echoed the stiffness in his, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was obvious that he was already withdrawing. If she was as prim as he was, they’d end up separating and fall asleep clinging to opposite sides of the bed, lonely and horny and too proud to do anything about it. “I didn’t want to go any further if you weren’t awake.”

  “Again, I apologize.” He blew out a breath, and it heated and dampened her throat. “This is very unlike me. I’m not used to sleeping so deeply, and I seem to be...doing things that I normally would not do.”

  Her body stiffened to match his. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d never touch me if you were conscious? You’re telling me that right now, with your hand between my legs and your dick mashed against my ass?”

  Yanking his hand away, he jerked back. Without his body pressed against her or his breath on her neck, Leah felt cold. She physically ached at his withdrawal, and that made her furious with herself. How could she want him so much when he said he didn’t want her?