Page 79 of Flake It Til You Make It

Rocco tipped his head towards Taylor’s as they waited for a car to turn before crossing the street. Snowflakes dotted his dark hair and dusted his lashes. “I’ll make you a marzipan latte to drink in the morning with your cookies.”

“That sounds perfect,” Taylor said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “If I didn’t say it enough, Ilovethem. I love that you baked them for me. And for the town. It’s like my mom’s back, with me.”

“I’m glad. I worried you might think I was overstepping, or even worse, that it might make you sad.”

Taylor unlocked the door and they headed inside, shedding their coats, scarves, and boots.

As he crossed to the fireplace and bent over, getting the wood arranged and lighting the fire starter, he considered Rocco’s worry.

“Yes, and no,” he said, giving Rocco a smile that made it clear which of these answers mattered more.

“I think I understand that,” Rocco said and flopped down on the couch. “This fire thing was a good idea, I’m freezing.”

“Give me one minute, and it’ll be up and running—and until then, I’ll keep you warm.”

Rocco waggled his eyebrows. “You’d better,” he said.

As he worked on the fire, he thought about the way he’d answered Rocco.

And yes, when he’d first seen the cookies, he’d missed her the way he always did, like a punch to the solar plexus. But like always, there was joy in that memory, too. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced a mingling of the two, but maybe for the first time, Taylor felt like the giddy happiness of having her back, even as a flavor on his tongue, overrode the bitter sadness.

And he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it didn’t have anything to do with the man behind him.

Rocco made him feel lighter than he had in years, so much lighter than Michael had. And it was because, always in the back of his mind, he’d worried about the other shoe dropping with Michael, but now, with Rocco, he was beginning to trust in this connection they were forging.

The wood was finally catching and he leaned back on his haunches, poking one of the logs with one of the set of fire irons his dad had sent him two Christmases back.

But before he could stand and head over to the couch, to do his very welcome duty in keeping Rocco warm—which he assumed, probably correctly, was kissing him until they were both too hot to keep their clothes on any longer—he felt a touch against his back.

“Couldn’t wait?” Taylor teased, leaning into Rocco as he wound an arm around his waist.

“I’m impatient,” Rocco murmured, kissing his neck, and Taylor understood, because when it came to Rocco, he wasn’t interested in waiting either. Only if it led to some very good delayed gratification.

“That feels . . .” Taylor let out a contented sigh as Rocco nibbled down the tendon, to the collarbone his shirt exposed, his fingertips digging into the cotton.

“Good, I hope.”

“Everything with you is . . .” Taylor wanted to say more. Say,I thought I’d been in love before, but it’s never been like this. Every day I keep discovering new ways to fall in love with you.

But before he could summon the courage, Rocco curled his body farther around Taylor’s and kissed him.

It was so easy to keep going, to let his tongue brush against Rocco’s and to press him down to the rug in front of the fireplace.

Rocco pulled back, chuckling, clear affection in his eyes. “Oh, so it’s okay ifyoudo it,” he teased.

“What do you mean?” Taylor wasn’t thinking very clearly—still too lost in the feel of Rocco’s mouth moving against his, in the feel of Rocco’s hard cock pressing into his thigh.

“You didn’t letmethank you with sex the other day.” Rocco grinned.

“How about this . . .” Taylor leaned in, trailing kisses down Rocco’s neck. He arched into his touch. “We thankeach other, for just how goddamn awesome this is.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“How about the sound of, I’m going to strip you down right here and enjoy every goddamn second of how gorgeous you look in the firelight before making you scream?”

It was gratifying how quickly Rocco’s pupils dilated even further. His cock a hot line, even through his jeans.

“I . . .uh . ..yes. That. Please.”

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