Page 50 of Tasting Sin

“Good,” he said, lightly biting my neck, “because I’m not even remotely done trying to get my fill.”

I gasped when he bit me again, quick to agree with him. “I don’t want you to be done.”

He flashed me an almost-evil smirk. I had forgotten the faucet on the tub was running until Ronan stepped away from me to turn it off. Light steam floated off the water, and my muscles ached to slide into it. “But first, your bath.”

Ronan climbed into the tub, reaching his hand out to help me in. I joined him, hissing when my leg first hit the water. My skin quickly adjusted to the sting—either that, or I forgot how hot it was as soon as Ronan was settling in. I looked at the space left between his legs, and I seated myself in the water, curling up into that space. I hummed, resting back against him while he wrapped his arms around me.

For a moment, I had forgotten about the bakery and the message painted on the front. I didn’t care about it when I could feel Ronan’s even breathing matching with mine. My mind was focused on the contrast of my pink loofah in Ronan’s big hands and the way he lathered it up with soap that smelled like vanilla and honey. My favorite.

He was gentle when he painted my body with foaming bubbles. I hummed, and my eyelids started to feel heavier. I blinked, letting them stay closed a second longer before they fluttered open to see Ronan rinsing the soap from the sponge. He used his hands to wash the suds from my body while my eyes fluttered closed. I inhaled slowly, sighing comfortably when I exhaled.

“Are you going to stay all night?” I asked sheepishly, tilting my head back, nuzzling my nose against the space below his ear and just above the curve of his neck. I inhaled the way his scent mixed with the fresh smell of vanilla.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, tracing the line of my arm with the tips of his fingers. It was comforting, and I melted into him until I couldn’t tell where my body stopped and his started.

I nodded, sinking into him. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Ronan chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing. “Because I was staying regardless.”

Chapter 30

Nellie

“How long do you think he’ll be here?” Ava asked, pointing to the broody man in a navy-blue suit who sat at the corner table with his arms crossed. He had been sitting in the same place since I got to the bakery an hour and a half before we opened, and he hadn’t said a word.

I shrugged. “Until we leave.” I had tried to convince Ronan I didn’t need a security guard. I told him there was no way any of his probably-rich friends were going to fit in with the pink décor, and I wasn’t going to listen to any complaining about the less-than-friendly customer who obviously wasn’t here for the cupcakes. I figured none of them would even do it. I was clearly wrong.

“Seriously?” Ava looked at me, back over her shoulder at the man who just stared at us, and then back to me. “Every day?”

“For now.” I nodded. Ronan had assured me I’d barely know he was there. So far, that wasn’t the case. “I tried to argue it, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

Suddenly, my best friend seemed less concerned about the unwanted guest, pretending to be overly interested in wiping down the counter in front of her. “So, uh, you said yes then? Does that mean you and Ronan are…”

“What? No! I mean…” I paused. Ava was my best friend. I couldn’t hide anything from her. “I don’t know. He’s really good in bed, okay? But he’s not my boyfriend or anything.”

She smirked at me, lifting a brow. “How many times have you fucked him?” I gasped. There was no way I was talking about this here.

I ignored Ava, turning my attention to Carlo. “Hey, do you want a cupcake?” I asked, raising my voice.

“No.” He shook his head once. His arms stayed crossed over his chest with him facing forward.

“Okay,” I dragged the word out and cocked my head to the side. “Well, how about a cup of coffee? You can’t just sit there.”

He looked at me from the corner of his eye like he was prepared to tell me to go fuck myself or something. “That’d be fine.”

“Cream and sugar?” I asked, though he didn’t seem the type to take his coffee very sweet. Judging by the way he scowled, I was correct. “Just black it is,” I giggled, dropping my voice to a whisper only Ava could hear. “Tough crowd.”

She giggled, and I poured a cup of fresh black coffee for Carlo. “Yeah, he seems social.” Ava walked away when the oven dinged, ignoring Carlo’s grumble.

As she disappeared to grab the fresh cupcakes before they burned, I took Carlo his coffee. I sat it in front of him, standing next to the table expectantly. He looked up at me from the corner of his eye, clearly unamused. “Yes?” he asked.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked, offering him my sweetest customer service smile—the same one I gave to elderly women or the people who looked like they would tip well. He shook his head, still not reaching for the steaming mug. “So how did he talk you into this?”

“He didn’t.” He didn’t move.

“I mean, he obviously did something!” I threw my hands in the air. There was no way this man was sitting at my bakery just because his buddy asked him to.

He scoffed. “Nope.”

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