***
“You want me to just wear this?” Callan asked, holding the fabric up in his hands.
I nodded.
“No boxers?”
“That’s up to you.”
I’d immediately dragged him down the hall to my bedroom and rifled through the dresser to find my spare apron. If this was supposed to be all about having fun and getting my mind off everything else, I was going to take advantage of it. I’d much rather have my attention on his body instead.
“Alright. Out,” he instructed.
“I don’t get to watch?”
He smiled, waving his hand at me to shoo. “You’ll get to see the final result.”
Watching Callan strip in front of me seemed a lot more enticing than the cinnamon rolls now.
“Go on. Close the door behind you.”
I let out a hmph and turned around, pulling the door shut and heading back to the kitchen. I’d debated changing into an apron myself, but kept my pajamas on instead. The shorts were a bit too short, the top a bit too flimsy, but I doubted Callan minded.
I got to work setting out all the ingredients we’d need for the recipe, aside from what he’d brought, as I waited for him to come out. Minutes later, the door down the hall opened.
I grabbed the cinnamon from the cabinet and turned to find Callan standing in the opening to the hallway with one arm propped up on the wall.
My jaw fucking dropped.
My cheeks had to be a million shades of red as I took him in.
“You actually did it,” I said, disbelief ringing in my tone.
“I did it for you, and if you tell anyone—”
“Oh, don’t worry. This is all for me.” All six-foot-whatever of him was mine tonight.
I eyed the apron slung around his neck, his broad shoulders exposed. His arms were fucking mouthwatering. Muscles like that should not be allowed. He was all toned, tanned, and delicious, and I wanted a taste.
He shoved off the wall, coming over to the kitchen to join me. When he turned, I saw he had kept his boxers on. “No commando?” I pouted.
He looked over his shoulder at me with a lift to the corner of his mouth. “I figured you might want to remove those later yourself.”
I was glad he turned back around to grab the bowls out of the cabinet because I was on fucking fire.
The way his words affected me could make this whole place go up in flames and I’d still stand here relishing in the fact that this man was in my kitchen in nothing but boxers and an apron.
He set the bowls on the counter next to me, leaning a hand on the edge as he homed in on me.
“Ready to get started?” he asked.
My eyes trailed over his arm, up his shoulders to his collarbones, then slid up his neck to meet his gaze.
“Yes.” On more than just the cinnamon rolls.
He reached around me to turn the knob on the oven to start the preheat, his hand dangerously close to me. As he pulled his arm away, his fingers gripped my ass softly, all while keeping his eyes on me. “Then let’s get to it, baby.”
We got to work on prepping the dough, bringing all the ingredients together to make a ball. As we waited for it to rest, I moved on to the icing as he wiped the counter where we’d made the dough.
“Taste this,” I said, dipping my finger into the bowl. I held it out to him and he faced me, wrapping his lips around the digit and sucking the icing into his mouth.
He made a low humming sound in the back of his throat, his tongue thoroughly licking my finger clean before he released it. “It’s delicious. Cream cheese frosting was the way to go. Have you tried it?”
I nodded. “I just wanted to make sure you liked it.”
He inched closer. “Here, have another taste.”
Callan dipped his finger into the bowl, gingerly coating his skin. He held it out to me and I opened my mouth, letting him slide his finger in.
Fuck, this was hot.
This man had me sucking icing off his finger, and all I could think about were the many other places I could be licking it off of his body.
“Good?” he asked as I twirled my tongue around it with another suck. He pulled his finger out, watching me intently.
“Amazing.”
He dipped his finger into the bowl again. “Get on your knees and try it again.”
