Page 103 of Icing on the Cake

“I feel you. These parties can be overwhelming, especially for introverts.” I appreciate his empathy. I can see why they made him captain this season. He’s the most level-headed guy on the team—sorry, Gerard, but it’s true—and also one of the most mature—sorry, Gerard, but it’s true. “Did you know Gerard’s looking for you? He said Jackson absconded with you.”

“Really? He said the word ‘absconded?’”

Oliver belly laughs. “Well, no. I said that. I believe he said, ‘bee-napped.’”

That sounds more like Gerard.“Did he say where he was going?”

Oliver jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “The baseball players challenged him to an apple-bobbing competition in the kitchen.”

“Bobbing for apples? Really? Can theybeany more cliché?”

Oliver shrugs. “What can I say? The man loves a challenge. And he’s quite good with his mouth.”

I cough uncontrollably as images of Gerard’s mouth wrapped around something decidedly not apple-shaped flash through my mind.

Oliver pats me on my back until I catch my breath. Then he gently nudges me toward the kitchen. “Go find your man. And try to have some fun, yeah? It’s Halloween, after all.”

He claps me on the shoulder and disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the muffled sounds of the party close by.

Okay, Elliot. You can do this. It’s Gerard. Your friend. Your very attractive, very tall, very muscular friend who has a big dick and a gift for oral activities. No big deal.

I put my antennae back on, take one last fortifying breath, and walk into the kitchen, only to freeze at the sight before me. Gerard’s massive frame is folded in half, and his thick torso is parallel to the floor. Water splashes everywhere as he repeatedly plunges his head into the tub, determined to snatch an apple with his teeth before the other guys. His long fingers grip the edge of the tub, and I suddenly wish it was me he was gripping, not an inanimate object. His knuckles are white, and his fingernails dig into the metal.

Gerard’s face is flushed from the exertion as he comes up briefly for air, his wavy blond hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes shine with determination before he plunges his head back into the tub with renewed vigor.

I drag my gaze from Gerard’s Herculean efforts to scope out his competition. Two other guys are bobbing alongside him—a lean brunette dressed as a race car driver and a stocky redhead dressed as Pennywise the Clown. They enthusiastically attack the apples, but even to my untrained eye, it’s clear that Gerard has them beat. His powerful shoulders and neck strain as he twists and turns his head, trying to grasp an elusive fruit.

The redhead comes up empty-handed and red-faced, his makeup running down his face. He steps back in defeat and watches Gerard and the brunette duke it out.

Seconds tick by, and my heart pounds.Come on, Gerard. You got this.

Suddenly, Gerard rears up, tossing his head back. There, clenched between his perfect white teeth, is a shiny red apple. It’s the single most sexy thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Watching droplets of water cascade down his strong neck and over his bobbing Adam’s apple…my mouth goes dry, and my palms start to sweat.

Gerard Gunnarson is a Greek god come to life.

The small crowd that had gathered to watch erupts into cheers and applause. Gerard releases the apple into his hand andtakes a dramatic bow, grinning from ear to ear. The cold water has soaked his jersey through, and I can make out just how erect his nipples are.

I want to suck on them. Nibble on them. Flick them and see if it makes Gerard’s eyes roll back.

Fuck.

Gerard’s eyes lock on mine, and his face brightens considerably. He makes his way through the crowd of congratulatory fans straight toward me. My pulse kicks into overdrive.Oh God. What do I do? What do I say?I’m so turned on right now I can barely think straight.

Before I can fully compose myself, Gerard stops in front of me with a triumphant smile on his handsome face. He holds up the apple like a trophy. “Did you see that, Elliot? I freakin’ dominated!”

“Y-yeah, you did,” I choke out. “That was…impressive.”

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without my lucky charm.” He glances down at his feet, then back up at me through his lashes.Is he…shy?The big bad Gerard Gunnarson is suddenly bashful?

I want to analyze this further, but the music from the living room grows considerably louder, and Gerard shrieks so loud that my eardrums nearly burst. “Oh! ‘Black Magic!’ Ilovethis song!”

He dashes toward the living room, the apple rolling from his hand and onto the floor. I watch it go, blinking in confusion. Did Gerard just squeal like a preteen girl at a boy band concert over a Little Mix song?

Curiosity overtakes me, and I follow the sound of Gerard’s whoops into the crowded living room. I push through the mass of bodies to see Gerard performing a choreographed dance that he no doubt made up on the spot.

His body moves in ways I never thought possible for someone of his size and stature. A manic grin lights up his face as he shimmies, shakes, and, yes, even twerks.

When the chorus hits, he drops it low, pops back up, andtwirls like a ballerina on steroids. The whole thing is bizarre and unexpected, and I don’t know what to make of it. Part of me wants to laugh and gouge my eyes out, but another part wants to film this for posterity—to watch over and over till the day I die.

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