Page 46 of Kiss and Make Love

My cheeks are burning. They must be a wild shade of pink. I shake my head at myself, but I am thrilled with the title I’ve nailed down for this sequel.

Now, all Ikneadedwas to get some love myself. Like that was ever going to happen. One glance from Marco and I turn into an awkward, flushed mess. It’s not like I didn’t have experience. I’ve dated my share of guys and explored enough kinks and fantasies through my writing, but I’ve never been so attracted to someone who was such a…a man. He makes the other guys I’ve dated seem like mere boys. That he co-owns and helps run a family business doesn’t hurt either. It shows he’s responsible and loves his family. And now I’m aware he also bakes. I stifle a groan. Could he be more perfect?

Frustrated with my inability to approach him for anything other than tea and baked goods, and frustrated in a completelydifferentway, I try to do what I always do when I get like this. Close my eyes and picture him with a hideous, inexplicable mutation. Like scales all over his back, or eight extra toes on the back of each heel, or a secret twin living inside him à la Jekyll and Hyde. That seems to help a bit. I chuckle at the idea of an evil villain lurking inside of Marco’s body, forcing him to bake a loaf of sourdough topped with an elusive rare salt every night that will keep the monster at bay.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Marco’s smooth voice and subtle accent rolls over me and plunges me back into sexual frustration. My eyes shoot open in response, and I find him standing at my table inthe corner, looking down at my empty mug, then back to me. I gather myself so I can reply as coherently as possible.

“Yeah, actually. A chai latte would be great.”

“Sure you don’t want another London Fog?” he inquires.

He remembers my order. It’s ridiculous, but him remembering what I like to drink causes butterflies to dance in my stomach.

“I thought one was enough for today. Figured I’d try something new.” I shrug, doing my best to seem nonchalant.

He takes the chair opposite me and sits down. It’s all I can do to keep the deer-in-headlights expression off my face. Stay calm. Don’t be a weirdo.

“You are the most consistent customer I’ve ever seen. You sit at the same table every Saturday and order the same thing: a London Fog and a white chocolate scone. When I ask if you want anything else, you always get another London Fog. What’s different about today?” His eyes lock with mine, imploring, searching for an answer.

He’s so sure of himself, I take a second to recover. He knows my routine. Which means he’s paying attention to me. And now…is he asking me something personal? I try not to light up with obvious glee that—at some point—I’ve been on his mind.

“I-I’m not sure, really,” I stammer. “I’d like to try something different, something new.”

Marco’s eyes sparkle at my answer and he leans in, resting his toned forearms on the table. They can't be that muscular just from kneading bread. Right?

“So you’re in an adventurous mood today?” A suggestive flicker lights up his eyes.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s flirting with me. Maybe he is. Why shouldn’t he? I’m cute, I’mconsistent, and he obviously thinks about me at least a little. Perhaps this is my shot to get what I’ve been daydreaming about for the past four months.

“As a matter of fact, I am. My life could use a little adventure.” I dare myself to match his gaze and not break away.

“What kind of adventure did you have in mind?”

“What can you offer?” OH MY LORD. Did that just come out of my mouth? Subtle as a freight train. Speaking like a character in one of my romcoms was not the way to go about things in a real-life situation. Still, I refuse to look away.

A deep chuckle leaves his body, washing over me, and a frisson climbs my spine. “I could offer you a lot,stellina.” One hand slides over mine, and he rubs his thumb in slow circles on my skin. Slow,sensualcircles. The heat of his touch almost makes me forget to make a mental note to research whatstellinameans when I get home.

“Can I give you my number?” I clench my jaw and hope to God he’ll show me exactly what he has to offer when he gets off work.

He arches an eyebrow, and that pretty smirk reappears. “Why wait?”

Marco’s fingers slide around my hand, gripping tight. My breath catches in my throat at his firm touch. I can tell he’s waiting for some sort of confirmation that I’m up for this before making his next move. I nod, only just, but it’s enough for him.

Keeping my hand in his, he stands and pulls me alongside him. We walk toward the hallway at the back of the café. I survey the area to see if anyone is looking at us. All the patrons are doing their own thing, and Abby must be in the kitchen because I can’t see her at the counter.

My heart is pounding, and I swear Marco can hear it. I try to take a deep, calming breath on the sly as he tugs me toward the door at the end of the back hallway. This is what I want. Have wanted for months. I can’t decide whether I want to scream, squeal, or throw up in anticipation. Well, not that last one. That wouldn’t bode well for anyone in this situation.

He pushes open the door and pulls me inside, slamming it shut behind him and flipping the lock on the door with an audible click. The lights are still off, and I’m not sure what room we’re in. I open my mouth to ask when his presence surrounds me. My throat clams up, and I find it tough to form a coherent thought in my very aroused brain.

Marco’s not touching me, but I can sense his body hovering in front of mine. The sliver of light shining under the bottom of the door shows how close he is. His warm breath tickles the side of my face. If I were to arch my body even a fraction, it would connect with his. And as desperately as I want to do that, Marco is in control of this situation, not me.

“Is this what you want, Georgia?” His lips trail over my jawbone, not quite touching.

I nod my head like an idiot before realizing the room is almost pitch black, and he can’t see me. “Yes,” I squeak out.

“You’re here every week. Every Saturday, always when I’m working,” he whispers in my ear. “Is that because you wanted me to notice you?”

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