Page 79 of Snared Rider

“Yeah.”

“I can already feel the calories hitting my hips,” I groan.

He grabs my sides, squeezing my love handles. “If it keeps these curvy then I’ll make you eat cake every fucking day.”

I smack his hands away even as I roll to my toes to press my lips to his.

“Thank you for my cake.”

“You’re welcome.” He takes my hand, pulling me around to the table. “Make a wish.”

I stare at the candles. “I already have what I wished for,” I say, raising my gaze to him.

His hand goes to the nape of my neck and squeezes. It’s a possessive gesture that makes my toes curl.

“I do,” I continue. “You make me so happy, Logan. Every day I’m with you is a dream. You complete me in ways I didn’t know I needed completing.”

He swallows hard as his head cocks slightly to the side.

“Babe.”

I turn to him because now I’ve started this litany, I can’t stop the words from pouring out of me. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. You standing here, with me, loving me back is the only thing I would ever have wished for.”

He stares at me a beat, then mutters, “Fuck.” His fingers tear through his hair and I’m not sure what is running through his mind until he says, “You better blow those candles out now, babe.”

A delicious shiver works through me at his tone, rather than his words.

Desire.

I hear it plain as day and it makes my pussy quiver with anticipation.

I move to the cake and blow. It takes a little bit of manoeuvring to get all the candles to go out but I manage. The cake is cute. It has a buttercream frosting, with ‘Happy Birthday, Beth’, piped on the top. Without stopping to consider the consequences I dip my finger in the frosting, scoop a dollop and wipe it on Logan’s stubbled cheek.

He recoils, stunned. I bite my bottom lip, trying to hold back the hysterical laughter bubbling up my throat. He looks ridiculous, standing there in his kutte and jeans, birthday cake on his cheek.

Then his dimples come out and he tries to glare at me around the smile. He fails, but he looks beautiful doing it.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he warns even as he chokes back a laugh.

Rather than dipping a finger into the cake, as I did, he uses all four as a scoop. I try to pull away but he seizes my wrist with his other hand so I can’t move, then smears buttercream on my face. It’s twice as much as I got him with.

I squeal and try to pull away as the sticky mess is smeared against my skin, but he holds me fast, stopping my retreat.

Logan’s eyes go soft as he takes in the cake on my face.

“Hmm. Good enough to eat.”

I shake my head at him and resist the urge to wipe more cake onto him as I ask, “Whose house is this?”

“Ours—for tonight.”

I double blink. “What?”

“I told you; I want you alone.”

His words take a moment to settle into my brain.

“You rented this house for us?”

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