Page 77 of Imperfect Arrangement
I send a silent thank-you to every deity in existence for the invention of padded bras. And for the fact that, by some miracle, I’m wearing one tonight. Because if I wasn’t, my nipples would be giving some tough competition to Raymond’s erection on hardness.
He hesitates for a moment before picking up the piping bag. As he shifts, his cock brushes against my ass a few more times. Each accidental contact is followed by a low, grumbled curse muttered under his breath. Yet he manages to handle the bag with a confidence that leaves me a little envious. While I’d have spilled half the icing or sent the nozzle flying across the kitchen, he works with practiced ease, his hands steady as he recreates the design from the photo. Only better.
When he pipes the last green leaf beside the yellow sunflower, I can’t help but stare. The cake is stunning, and for a moment, the world narrows to just one thing—the giddy feeling in my chest at how perfect it is. Quill is going to love it.
Without thinking, I spin around and throw my arms around Raymond. This man, who’s been nothing but a series of surprises since the day I walked into his home, has managed to turn my hopeless disaster into magic.
“Thank you,” I murmur, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you so much. You did it.”
“We did it, Firefly. For our bug. For her first birthday in her dad’s house. In her home.” His voice dips as he speaks, and then his arms tighten around me, wrapping me in something far warmer than just his embrace.
His words make my throat tighten. This isn’t just about a cake. This is about love, hope, and the life he’s building for Quill. And tonight, I feel like I’m not just holding a man. I’m holding every emotion he’s poured into this moment. It’s all there—raw, unspoken, but so deeply felt.
We stay like that, tangled together in the quiet. No words are exchanged because none are needed. His unsaid feelings are big enough to fill the entire room, and I let myself soak them in. Eventually, Raymond steps back, though his hands linger on my waist for just a beat longer than necessary. His gaze drops to the cake, softening as he tilts his head toward it.
“So, since this was a test run, what do you want to do with it?”
I blink, needing a second to shift back into practical mode. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll take it to the nursing home or the children’s hospital. I just don’t want Quill to see it before her big day.”
“Good thinking.” He steps toward the fridge and carefully places the cake inside. “Let’s keep it safe until you decide.”
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to pull myself out of his orbit. My steps are shaky as I head back to my room and crawl into bed, taking off my bra before pulling the covers over me. My eyes flutter shut, replaying the last few hours like a movie reel, only this time I’m a spectator.
From a distance, I imagine every flicker of emotion on Ray’s face as I stood there, trapped in his captivity. I slide my hands under the waistband of my shorts because just the thought of Raymond Teager in all his jaw-dropping glory is the most potent foreplay I’ve ever experienced.
I get close—so close—but the bigOrefuses to RSVP. After several frustrating near misses, I let out an exasperated groan and slam my head against the pillow.
“Tonight is not your night, Wills,” I mutter to the ceiling.
Crap. Nothing comes easy these days. Not orgasms. Not peace. Not sleep.
Frustration bubbles to the surface, and I grab my phone and open the group chat with my girls because someone has to help me claw my way out of this misery.
Me: What do you do when you’re climbing that wall, but your damn body refuses to make the leap?
Violet’s reply comes almost instantly. Of course, she’s a self-proclaimed night-owl extraordinaire.
Violet: Are we talking about orgasms or someone going through a crisis? If it’s the latter, tell me where you are.
I chuckle despite myself and roll onto my side to reply.
Me: Don’t worry, I’m safely tucked into bed. Unfortunately, this is about orgasms.
I hit send and am about to type more when another notification flashes across the top of my screen.
Raymond.
My heart stutters so hard I drop the phone onto my chest before scrambling to open the message.
Raymond: If you don’t mind, I might have an idea for the cake tomorrow.
Me: Of course.
Raymond: Good night, Firefly.
I’m still staring at his text like a lovesick teenager when Violet’s message interrupts.
Violet: You don’t need to jump the wall yourself. You need someone to push you over.
