Page 79 of Married to the Frenemy

“How does it look?” I ask Beckham, finally glancing his way.

As always seems to be the case lately, my heart races at the sight of him in his dusty jeans and plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Forget suit porn.

I’m a sucker for forearm porn.

Especially Beckham’s forearms. Not only are they tastefully covered in artful tattoos, but I can make out his veins as his muscles flex.

“It’s incredible, Haley.” He looks at me in awe.

This isn’t the first time I’ve shown him one of my cakes. Over the past few months, he’s seen quite a few of them go from a rough drawing in my sketchpad to a complete cake.

Yet with every one, he acts just as amazed.

“Even up close, it looks so real.” He leans toward it. “If this one weren’t on your cake stand, I wouldn’t be able to tell which is the cake and which is the toy.” He looks between the plastic dinosaur I used as a model for my cake. “Think I can book you to make my birthday cake this year?” His expression falls. “Then again, I’m not sure you have a pan big enough to make a life-size version of my cock.” He playfully waggles his brows.

“Jackass.” I roll my eyes and move through the kitchen to clean up my mess. But just as I grab a dishtowel, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Why? Miss me?”

“Always,” he replies in a low, husky voice that sends a rush of exhilaration through me.

“In that case…” I hoist myself onto my toes and touch my lips to his in a soft kiss, keeping it relatively tame.

But Beckham has other ideas.

He tightens his hold on me as he coaxes my mouth open, his tongue sliding against mine. The familiar taste of him consumes me, all thoughts of cleaning fading away.

What is it about this man and his kisses? It’s only been a few short hours since he kissed me goodbye before heading to work. Yet I kiss him like it’s been years since I’ve felt them.

“Now this is my kind of lunch break.” He moves from my mouth, each hot kiss along my jawline making me feel like he’s branding me as his, igniting a fire deep inside me.

“Beckham,” I whimper when I feel his erection pressing against me.

“I just want to be inside you every damn second of every damn day.”

“Think you can last that long?”

He pulls back slightly, his hungry eyes locking on me. “For you, I’ll put in my best effort.”

Then he slams his mouth back to mine as he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt.

“What about lunch?” I manage to gasp out as he tears away to rip my shirt over my head. “Don’t you want to eat first?”

A wicked grin lights up his face. “I’m about to.”

His mouth collides with mine as I hook a finger into his belt loop and yank him closer. I make quick work of his belt and am about to push his jeans down his legs when the doorbell rings.

“Expecting anyone?” Beckham asks, sliding his hands underneath my bra and cupping my breasts.

“No,” I pant, throwing my head back. “You?”

“Even if I were, they can wait till my wife is satisfied.”

He moves the cup of my bra to the side, my breast spilling out. Then he takes my nipple in his mouth, his teeth lightly nibbling.

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