Page 49 of House of Desire

“I have thought of almost nothing else in weeks,” I whisper, anxiety calming inside me. “And they didn’t ruin it.”

It’s true. I don’t regret this moment of passion, even though it will be aired for millions to see. There’s no way the footage won’t be used. It’s too good. Too hot. But I couldn’t have lasted another day without his lips on mine.

He pulls back, looking at my face to see if I’m telling the truth or simply what he’s wanting to hear.

“It was a fantastic kiss,” I tell him, grinding myself against him for a moment to emphasize my point.

“The best I’ve ever had.” His fingers dig into my ass as he grips my hips tightly, grinding himself against my soaking core so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to feel my arousal through his pants. As he hits the perfect spot, making me gasp, I can see he’s considering throwing caution to the wind and continuing what we had started. It would only take a second to free him and pull my panties to the side before he could plunge his thick cock into me.

But the thought of someone hearing him give me pleasure, or worse, capturing it on camera, stops me.

I reach up, cupping his cheek as I give him a soft kiss. He gives me a small smile and steps back so I can shimmy from the table.

Looking around the kitchen, I cringe.

“This is going to be fun to clean,” I say. There is flour and sugar everywhere. I don’t think a single surface was untouched in our fight, but even still, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

We move around the room grabbing up all the different bowls and spoons, dumping them in the sink to be washed. I go into the cleaning closet to fill up the mop bucket for Parker while I grab as many cleaning cloths and paper towels as I can hold for myself. Making relatively quick work of the job, we clean the entire space until it’s sparkling once more.

“Does this mean I won’t get a cupcake today?” Parker asks, as I take his messy apron from him and throw them both in the basket to be washed.

I grab his hand and pull him through the double doors back into the front of the shop, the cameras waiting for us. Pushing open the case, I grab one of the cupcakes we were going to bake before our food fight.

“For you,” I say presenting it to him as I slide the glass closed once more.

He takes it from my hand and breaks it in half, holding a piece out to me.

“I think we both deserve a treat,” he says as I take it.

The cake is delicious if not, ever so slightly stale, telling me it was probably made yesterday so there wouldn’t be any rushing this morning. But even despite that, Parker groans as he takes a bite.

“This is amazing,” he says, giving me a kiss. The nonchalant gesture makes it seem like we’ve been trading kisses for far longer than the hour since our first, but I’m not upset by the easy comfortability.

“You’re going to have to make these for my birthday every year until I die,” he says, shoving the rest of the cake into his mouth, chewing greedily.

“Deal,” I say as I grab his hand and lead him from the shop with the thought of years of making him birthday cakes glowing in my chest.

The house is a light yellow. As we drove in, I noticed every house is painted one of five different colors. White, gray, blue, cream, or black. There were no other options in the neighborhood. All the houses are single level with well-manicured, but small, lawns.

But Anastasia’s parents’ house is slightly different from all the others. Theirs, instead of a cream, is more a pale yellow. Instead of a single level, there seems to be a small amount of space above the garage. Where everyone else’s lawns are well manicured with perfect rows of bushes under the windows, a riot of color and unrestrained flowers sit.

The house feels happy. Loved. Like a family that has so much love it spills out to be seen by everyone that drives by.

I feel myself smiling at the structure that is so different from anything I’ve ever lived in before.

While my current house is beautiful, there’s nothing about it that screams love and joy. It simply looks perfect and cold, like marble.

Cameras wait for me on the lawn, set to film me from the moment I step out of the car.

Settling into Parker, House of Desire, contestant, I grab the flowers from the seat next to me. I went to three flower shops after leaving the bakery, but I think the ones I picked are perfect. The blooms match the colorfulness of those in front of the house so well. When I saw the bouquet, I knew it was the one I had to bring with me for this date.

Our earlier kiss enters my mind as I open the door, ready to see the stunning raven-haired beauty who continues to draw me to her, and I wonder if something permanent could come from this show.

The black front door opens as I reach for the doorbell, and Anya stands in front of me in a blue dress the color of the cloudless summer day.

She smiles up at me, and out of reflex I bend down to give her a kiss.

“You look like a dream,” I tell her. Her hand snakes out and gives me a sharp pinch on my forearm. “Hey! What was that for?”

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