Page 60 of Mitch

Penn hurriedly set his bowl down, turning around and looking for something, a confused look on his face.

I set my camera down. “Looking for something?”

“Uh, yeah, the cupcake liners. They’re....”

I noticed them out of the corner of my eye, behind my camera. I picked them up, heading over to Penn, who reached for them. I pulled them out of his reach.

“Mitch, come on...”

“You scoop, I’ll line.”

Penn pursed his lips. “You don’t have to?—”

“Maybe I want to.”

I watched as his eyebrows furrowed, and his shoulders relaxed.

“I’m not used to help. I mean, Archie has his own duties, and my parents, well, when they’re here everything is pretty much done already, andI?—”

I hip-checked him, nudging him toward his bowl as I started to peel the liners out of the stack, placing them in each muffin cup in their prospective trays.

“You’ve already helped me so much, it feels like I’m taking advantage. I wish there was something I could do to show my thanks,” he said softly, taking the hint and grabbing his bowl of batter, following behind my lining.

I chuckled darkly. “I could definitely think of a few ways you could show your gratitude,” I teased.

Like I expected, Penn’s cheeks blushed with that perfect pink tint.

“Mitch!” he squealed, but it wasn’t angry or worried. It was tinged with laughter, and only a hint of embarrassment.

“What? I told you when we first met, I like sugar. And cream.”

Penn shook his head as he moved down the line to fill more of the lined cups as I added, “And youdidpromise me sweet, sugary goodness.”

I turned toward him as I reached the end of the line. Penn grasped the bowl tightly as he glanced up at me, rosycheeks and glassy eyes making my damn cock twitch and my heart beat faster.

“Would dinner suffice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

His bowl of batter was practically empty, and I couldn’t help myself. I ran my finger along the inside of the rim, collected a small amount of the creamy goodness on the tip, and took a lick of the batter.

Penn licked his lips, tightening his grip on the bowl.

“You know there is raw egg in that?” he warned.

I licked the batter off my finger with a moan of delight.

Vanilla cream.

Fucking delicious.

“Yeah, and it’s delicious.”

“Help me put these in the ovens,” he said, averting his gaze as he picked up the first tray with one hand, popping open the top and bottom oven doors.

I gladly grabbed two trays and followed suit, loading them in.

Penn grabbed the last tray and put it on the bottom rack, closing the doors.

“To answer your question, where didyou have in mind? For dinner, I mean.”

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