Page 35 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

Willow sat down first, giving me a chance to sit close enough that our legs touched. I felt like a kid in school, stealing any chance I could to get the pretty girl I was crushing on to give me the time of day.

I took her picture as she held both cookies in front of her eyes like glasses, and couldn’t help but grin as I checked the photo. When I went in for the picture of the two of us, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Willow held both cookies and tipped her head onto my shoulder.

I took the picture, but didn’t want to lower my phone. When I did, she would sit up.

So I kissed her head, and took another picture.

I wanted her in every way imaginable. I wanted her grumpy mornings.

I wanted her solemn stares as she sat beneath the willow tree.

I wanted her bouncing to a song in the driver’s seat as she took us somewhere new.

I wanted her warmth pressed against me as we fell asleep every fucking night.

I wanted her hair in whatever color she painted it, as long as the vibrancy matched the flames in her soul.

I wanted to be the applause at her back, the hand at her side, and the arms she ran to.

“How do we think this one’s going to rank?” she asked as she tapped her cookie against mine. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I mumbled, then took a bite.

It looked unassuming. Just a small cookie with average sized chocolate chips.

But the first bite was anything but ordinary.

The edge was crispy, leading into a chewy middle. Layers of flavor harmonized in a symphony.

Willow was right. The first cookie with the frosting was too much. There was beauty in simplicity.

Willow’s eyes went wide after the first bite, and she began to nod profusely. “This is the one. Perfect ten.”

Yeah. She was.

“It’s classic,” she said around the second bite. “No bells and whistles. Just a solid fucking cookie.” She wiped the crumbs from her fingers. “I should be full after that many cookies, but I could eat a dozen more of those.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

I took her hand, and we marched right back into the bakeshop. An older lady was behind the counter this time, sweeping up as they neared closing. Willow’s face fell as soon as she spotted the empty cookie tray.

“How can I help you?” the older lady said with a smile as she propped the broom against the wall.

“Any chance you’ll have more cookies today?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not today,” she said as she adjusted the name tag that said “Lily.”

Willow’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Okay.”

“But we’ll have more tomorrow morning, bright and early,” Lily said.

“Thanks, but we’re just passing through,” I said. “They were the best cookies we’ve ever had.”

She smirked. “They should be. My daughter’s name is on the bakery, but the recipes are mine. Wait here.”

We froze at Lily’s order.

A minute later, we were on our way out the door with a hand-written recipe for chocolate chip cookies. After a quick stop at a grocery store for ingredients, Willow and I headed back to the house.

She triaged the ingredients while I preheated the oven and pawed around for a sheet pan.

“I have a feeling that these aren’t going to be as good as Lily’s,” Willow said as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and popped the sticks of butter in the microwave to soften.

I grabbed a mixing bowl and measured the dark brown sugar and white sugar. Willow grabbed the butter from the microwave and added it to the sugars, then cracked the eggs into a separate bowl.

I creamed the butter and sugar with a hand-held mixer until it turned pale, then held the bowl steady while Willow dropped in the eggs one by one, and added the vanilla. By the time the batter had blended, she had measured out the dry ingredients into a little bowl.

She sidled up to me and started to shimmy the dry ingredients into the butter, sugar, and eggs as I mixed it in, but it fell in an avalanche.

Willow shrieked in surprise, and accidentally dumped the rest into the beaters.

Flour flung in a tornado of white dust, billowing into the air, coating us and every nearby surface.

I yanked the mixer out of the dough before I thought to turn it off. Dough flung off the metal beaters, coating us like stuccoed walls.

“Turn it off!” Willow laughed as she held her hands out to block the flurry of cookie dough.

I cut the power and looked at her. Flour dusted her cheeks and nose. There was cookie dough all over her neck and chest. I’m sure I didn’t fare any better.

But there were clear flour-free creases around the corners of her eyes where she had been smiling.

And that made it all worth it.

“Yeah, I don’t think these are going to be as good as Lily’s,” I said through my own laughter. I wiped my hands on my T-shirt and cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer. “Come here.”

Willow’s eyes creased at the corners as I smoothed my thumbs over her cheeks, wiping the flour away.

Green eyes that reminded me of endless fields and vintage Coke bottles met mine and didn’t look away. I held her gaze as I slowly tucked a lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear.

Willow was the one to take the closing step forward, pressing her body to mine. I cradled the back of her neck, threading my fingers into her hair. Willow let out a quiet gasp as I curled them around the strands at the nape of her neck.

Cookie dough flecked her throat and jaw. I tightened my grip on her hair and tilted her head back, latching my mouth to the first speck of dough.

Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath, but it only made me hold her closer.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, keeping her body flush against mine as I sucked and licked at the delicate skin.

I kissed my way up to the corner of her jaw as her knees buckled and she melted against me, nipping just enough to leave a little mark that would fade by morning.

Willow tilted her head to the side, opening her throat to me as wanton whimpers escaped her lips. I licked my way up to her ear and sucked the divot behind her earlobe until those whimpers turned to moans.

“Ryan,” she whispered as need began to take over.

I kissed my way back down her jawline, nuzzling beneath her chin as I lapped at the cookie dough and sugar that coated her clavicle.

Her hips pressed into mine. There was nothing I could do to hide my erection, but Willow didn’t seem to mind. Her body rocked and swayed as she gave into the intrinsic, primal need that had been growing between us.

Only when those moans were stifled did I break away. When I looked up, Willow was biting her lip to stay quiet as her lungs begged for air.

“Don’t do that, beautiful,” I said as I pressed my thumb to her lower lip and pulled it from between her teeth.

Her eyes went wide. “Why not?”

“I’m jealous of the air you breathe because it gets to kiss your lips.

” I slanted my mouth over hers as she exhaled sharply.

My voice turned to a gravel-filled whisper.

“It’s not anywhere near what I want from you, but if the only satisfaction I ever get is to breathe the same air as you, then I’ll make it be enough.

” I scraped my teeth along the supple pout of her lower lip.

“Don’t ever bite this lip when I can do it for you.

Because the air you breathe is the only thing that has ever truly filled my lungs. ”

Her inhale and cry of delight was sharp as I pulled her lip between my teeth and sucked.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

“Kiss me,” she whimpered as I drew her lip out then dove in to do it again. “Please.”

“Are you begging?”

Willow nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s about fucking time,” I growled as I backed her up against the countertop and kissed her square on the mouth.

Willow moaned into my mouth, and I took advantage, sweeping my tongue against hers. She raked her hands up and down my chest as I held her firmly, keeping her in place.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to unfasten those overalls and peel them down her legs. I wanted to explore every inch of skin until I knew her better than I knew myself.

Willow pulled back for air, but I swallowed down each breath and kissed her again and again and again. Her fingers slipped beneath my shirt, smoothing up and down my chest and stomach.

I slept shirtless most nights, but this was different. This wasn’t just her skin against mine. It was a message. This was Willow telling me exactly what she wanted.

She rolled her hips against mine, seeking pleasure we weren’t ready for. As much as I wanted to say “fuck it” and take her right there on the kitchen counter, it wasn’t time. We still had work to do.

My touch gentled as hers hastened. The oven beeping to signal that it had finished preheating startled both of us out of the haze.

“Tell me something, Wills,” I whispered against her lips, not quite ready to lose that connection yet. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I never said you had to stop.”

Slowly, I released her hair and cupped her cheeks, giving her one more slow kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and she opened immediately to let me in. As quickly as the kiss began, it ended.

“I meant tomorrow,” I said as I rested my forehead against hers. “And the day after that. And the day after that.”

The request gave her pause. Willow’s brows creased in the middle, and I knew I was right to keep taking it slow.

“Tell me no,” I said.

She tipped her chin up, brushing her lips across mine. “You can kiss me tomorrow.”