Page 6 of Bound By Temptation

The one who would not get out of my head even after all these years.

She was like a drug to me. Every morning, I came here and ordered coffee and one of her blueberry muffins. Every morning, she smiled tightly at me. Every morning, I’d turn around and walk back out the door. Every. Single. Morning.

It was my own brand of torture. An addiction. One that I was unable to stop or control.

Entering the building, my eyes went immediately to the beauty who lifted her head to greet her customers every time she heard that bell ring, even when she was in the back. Not when she was working on the cakes, but any other time. She seemed to be in her own world with those.

“Welcome!” Indie called out, wide smile directed at me. The full force of it could knock the strongest man on his ass. Talk about beautiful and downright sexy. Her lips told her feelings. Smiling, flat, tipped, quirked, down, frown—all of them. If you put a mask over her face and just showed me her lips, I’d know who she was in a glance.

Not a stitch of makeup and her hair up in a messy thing on top of her head, no one could compare to her beauty. Ever. I’d known that even as an asshole teen she was special. She was unique.

There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect this woman. I’d kill without blinking an eye, but she couldn’t stand to be anywhere around me. When our eyes connected, hers danced for just barely a moment, then the look was washed away as if it was never there in the first place and was replaced with an indifference I fucking couldn’t stand.

She hated me. I knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. It was well deserved. I was a dick to her years ago, and it was something a woman like her would never forget or forgive.

Every action had a consequence. I knew that better than most in my line of work.

But she was a temptation that I had to get my fix of every morning, come hell or high water. I needed her like I needed air, even if it were for her to barely give me the time of day.

She wasn’t a “challenge” like the woman at the bar. No, Indie was on a pedestal so high, she was now unreachable for me. She deserved better, and it was the way things had to be. She was heaven while I remained in hell.

Today must’ve been my lucky day with Indie working the register. Normally she had others do that task, while she was in the back working on her beautiful cakes. She was a creative genius. I’d seen several of her cakes, and they looked like 3D magic.

Currently, though, it was nice to have her full attention if only for a minute. It’d been a long damn time since I’d felt the full effects of Indie with just a look.

“What can I get ya?” Indie asked, making eye contact, but she felt so far away, closed off. Cordial but not herself either. She erected an enormous wall between us to protect herself. I understood it, and I didn’t see it ever coming down. “Your usual?”

A smirk came to my lips. How she remembered everyone who stepped into the bakery’s orders when most of the time she wasn’t even up front was beyond me. Especially some of the shit people ordered these days. Two pumps whatever, foam and milk … blah, blah, blah.

Between the sweets and coffee, she deserved a fucking medal for remembering shit.

In my case, part of me would give anything for her to forget the bad shit that came from me.

“Two of those, two black coffees, and whatever in the hell my mom gets when she’s here.”

Her demeanor relaxed at the mention of my mother. My mother, Bella, and Indie loved each other once upon a time. They’d go shopping and do girl shit when I had shit to do. Truthfully, Mom still loved her to this day. I’d fucked that up too.

Their relationship had my mother so pissed at me for my actions. She didn’t talk to me for a while, but I knew she still talked to Indie. I wasn’t a stupid man; I just never brought it up.

“Sure thing. Anything else?” she asked writing with a black marker on the five cups in front of her.

“Yeah. Give me a dozen mixed donuts, a dozen of those cherry and apple things, and mixture of those sweet lemon bars you make.” God the woman could bake. She was truly amazing at her gift.

Her hand holding the sharpie went to her hip, and her brow tilted in question. “You havin’ a party?”

“Nah, family meetin’. Thought I’d try and sweeten’ them up,” I said, giving her my smile. Fuck, was I flirting with her?

I must’ve been because she turned around and started getting my order ready without another word. That was the shit I hated, her utter dismissal. But I had no one to blame but myself. She wasn’t rude by any means. More professional.

Her, baker. Me, customer.

Nothing more.

Nothing like years before.

She buzzed along, my eyes going to her round ass. That ass was so perfectly peach shaped women around the world aspired to have one like it. I’d had the ass in my bed and kissed every damn inch of it. She always tasted sweet like honey straight from the hive. It felt as though it was just for me. As if she was made just for me.

My cock started to stir. It always did around Indie, but especially when her ass jumped out at me. Hell, it happened just breathing the same air as her.

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