Page 37 of Complete Me

“There’s no coconut oil or shredded coconut in any of our baked goods. It might be considered an uncommon allergy, but no coconut is becoming a more frequent request, and there are alternatives. So we use those instead.”

Xander groans softly and sinks down to his knees, pointing at a pastry in the case. “What are those?”

Bill turns his attention to whatever Xander’s pointing at. “Those are opera cakes. It’s three layers of almond cake soaked in coffee syrup, one layer of espresso-flavored buttercream, one layer of bittersweet chocolate ganache, all topped off with a chocolate glaze.”

Xander turns to Bjorn, eyes wide and pleading. “I need it.”

I bite my lip, my body responding in very inappropriate ways to his comment and his position on his knees. Bjorn doesn’t seem to be immune either, as he gives in almost instantly. “How about we get one piece of cake and three forks? We can share.” Xander’s smile is pure sunshine. His students wouldn’t recognize him right now. Bjorn turns to Bill. “Just one, please.”

“Comin’ right up. It’s just me closin’ tonight, so I’ll ring you up and then bring it over after I plate it. Do y’all want somethin’ to drink?”

Bjorn doesn’t even pause to consider. “I’ll have a black coffee.”

I walk up behind him and lightly place my hand on his lower back. His head snaps around to look at me, but he leans into my touch. We share a smile, and it takes everything I have to pull my attention back to Bill. “I’ll have the same.”

Xander points to the board. “That. The second one down. I want that one, please.”

The drink in question is a caramel latte with brown sugar and cinnamon, and I wince. “You’re never going to sleep. You know that, right?”

“He’ll be hopped up on caffeine and sugar for days.” Bjorn slides his arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. I lean into him, encouraged by the slightly flirty interactions the three of us are having. Maybe we all are on the same page.

Xander pushes to his feet with an indignant sniff. “I’ll be fine. And neither of you has to deal with me, so why are you worrying about it?” He spins around, heading for a comfy-looking loveseat near the small fireplace.

Bjorn sighs and leans close, his breath tickling my ear. “I should go make sure he’s not pouting.” He reaches for his wallet. “Let me get this.”

I shake my head. “Nope. It was my pick. Go check on trouble.” That earns me a wide grin and a peck on the cheek. We stare at each other, and Bjorn gives me one final squeeze, then wanders toward Xander. I step to the counter, credit card in hand, and tap to pay. “Kick us out when you’re ready.”

Bill waves my comment aside. “I’m not too worried about it. We’re open for another hour, and then I’ll still have to clean up, so no rush.”

“Thanks.” I slip my wallet into my pocket, reviewing the conversation I’ve already had eight thousand times in my head as I walk toward Xander and Bjorn. It’s less nerve-wracking since we’ve all been openly affectionate with each other. Here’s hoping it continues. I slide into a leather club chair between Bjorn and Xander. It’s prudent to have my own space for this discussion.

Xander glances at the empty spot next to him. “If you sit way over there, you won’t be able to share my dessert.” He points at me and then at Bjorn. “Neither of you will. And I’m not moving. I’m too comfy.”

Laughing, I settle into my seat. “You can pass the plate.”

Xander’s pout becomes a grin as Bill sets the opera cake in front of him. He hands each of us a fork and sets down our drinks, then wags a finger at Xander. “Make sure you share.”

With an aggrieved sigh, as if the idea is outrageous, Xander nods. “If I must.”

Bill chuckles, his gaze taking us all in. “Y’all let me know if you need anything else.”

Once he wanders away, Xander takes a bite of the cake and closes his eyes, moaning in pleasure. Bjorn attempts and fails to adjust himself discreetly. Our eyes meet, and I smirk. “Problem?”

“Nope.” He sits up and, with zero shame, adjusts the growing bulge behind his zipper.

Xander is paying no attention to either of us. His entire focus is on the cake in front of him. “Oh my god. This is an orgasm on a plate.”

Bjorn’s laugh fills the empty cafe. “Better than a solo and very public orgasm in my pants. Stop groaning like that.”

Xander doesn’t seem to hear him. Or he’s ignoring Bjorn for the cake. “Neither of you are getting any of this.” He looks like he’s going to wrap himself around the plate, but before he moves, I lean across and snatch it from his hand. “Hey!”

It may be childish, but I truly need the distraction. My mind is very much in step with my body, both desperately aching for these ridiculous men, and so close to getting what I want. If I don’t focus on something else I might initiate inappropriate activities in public. And that’s not something I’d have considered before tonight. Would it be bad to bypass my carefully planned argument and blurt out our proposal in short, sexually graphic detail? Probably. “Bill said to share, brat.” I point at Xander. “Behave, or else.”

Xander licks his fork seductively. “Or else, what?”

I consider for a moment as I watch his tongue do naughty, naughty things to the tines of the fork. “Or else no dessert for you for a week.”

Xander’s mouth drops open as his eyes go wide, and I almost laugh. Just as quickly, he composes himself, his body language screaming indignance. “You do realize I’m a grown adult. How are you going to keep me from eating whatever I want?”

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