Page 36 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Seven

Cameron

I t turns out Euan likes drama, suspense, crime, and thrillers, which works because I enjoy all those genres too. He picks a film I haven’t seen. We sit, not too close, in his living room, watching it while the cupcakes cool. I want to kiss him again so badly, but I respect his desire to slow down. I did come on kind of strong, but can you blame me? I might never get the chance to do anything sexy with him again.

“Icing,” Euan says once the film is over.

“I watched a bunch of YouTube videos about how to ice.” I follow him through to the kitchen.

“So you said.”

“It looks pretty easy.”

“Uh-huh. You said that earlier too.” He leans against the breakfast bar, arms folded.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you take charge. You’re the expert.”

I snort. “Hardly.”

“You know more than me. Honestly, I’d just add a bit of water to some icing sugar and dollop it on with a spoon.”

“Uh-uh. We’re making buttercream icing. Oh, except you don’t have a stand mixer, do you?”

Euan shakes his head.

“Maybe I should have bought one.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re taking this pretty seriously.”

“Making cupcakes?”

“Looking after Elliott.”

“Well, yeah. Dad’s relying on me. I don’t want him worrying while he’s away. I don’t want to let Elliott down either.”

Euan smiles. “You won’t. You’re a great big brother.”

My cheeks get warm. “I try.” I clear my throat and find a buttercream recipe on my phone.

Next, I weigh out the butter and icing sugar—even spooning it into a bowl creates clouds of fine white powder—and beat the butter with a fork.

“This would be much easier with a stand mixer,” I say once my arm is getting tired.

“Let me take over.”

“Gladly.” I resist the urge to comment on how good at beating he is, even though that’s exactly what I fantasise about. His hand on my cock, beating furiously until I come all over him. I tug my T-shirt away from my chest and fan my too-hot skin.

His cheeks flush red. Can he guess what I’m thinking about?

Once the butter is fully whipped and almost white, I take over mixing while Euan slowly adds the icing sugar. Sweet dust gets everywhere despite his best efforts. Pretty soon, everything within a foot radius is covered in a fine sheen of white powder, including us. It makes me want to kiss him more. The taste of him, plus the sweetness of the icing sugar, would be a divine combination.

“I’m buying a stand mixer if I ever make cupcakes again.” I flex my aching arm.

Euan chuckles. “Let’s hope this is the last time we have to. They’ll be in secondary school soon.”

“True.”

We have a batch of buttercream that’s hopefully big enough to ice twenty-four cupcakes. I split it into six bowls, which is messier than I thought it would be, and then mix a few drops of icing colour into each one, so we have a rainbow of colours.

“Do you have any cling film?”

Euan frowns. “Cling film?”

“Yeah. It’s a trick I saw on?—”

“YouTube,” we say in unison.

I crack up laughing. “Yes! It’s less messy, and you can combine the colours more easily to make multicoloured swirls.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I arrange sausage-shaped dollops of the icing side by side on a sheet of cling film and roll them into a larger sausage. After snipping the end of a piping bag, I slip one of the fancy nozzles I bought inside. It falls out the bottom through the hole I cut.

Euan arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s the first time I’ve done this.”

He waves his hands. “You’re doing a better job than I could. I would be using a spoon right now.”

I get a fresh piping bag and cut off a smaller amount of the end. This time, the nozzle fits just right. Next, I cut the end of the cling film icing sausage and put it into the bag.

“You certainly look like an expert,” Euan says.

I poke my tongue out and gingerly hold the bag over a cupcake. “Then the idea is you squeeze gently in a spiral and… Voila!” I stare at the crooked, not even remotely neat spiral of icing on the cupcake. “It looks a bit like a unicorn took a shit.”

Euan laughs. “It looks great. Better than I could do.”

I grin. “Let’s find out.” I hand him the piping bag.

“I think I’d rather let you handle the icing.”

“No chance. We’re making these cakes together.”

“We have no idea if they taste nice.”

I hum. “True. Maybe we should try one.”

“We didn’t make any extras.”

“Also true. But do you think the boys would miss one cupcake?”

He scratches his jaw. “Probably. But you’re right. We should taste-test one.”

“At least one. In the interests of quality assurance.”

He chuckles. “Quality assurance, huh?”

“Yes. It’s very important.”

“Well, the one you iced looks half-decent. So we can try the one I’m about to put icing on.”

I fold my arms and tut. “Pessimist.”

“I prefer to call myself a realist.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a drama teacher. You should be an optimist.”

“Where’s the logic in that?”

“Because theatre involves suspending imagination. Believing in the magic of what you’re seeing on stage. Creating something out of nothing.”

He stares at me, his expression unreadable.

“What?” I ask.

“Your eyes lit up just then. They were—” He blushes and looks away.

What was he going to say?

He takes a deep breath and squeezes icing onto a cupcake. It’s more of an artistic dollop than a swirl. He ends up with three times as much icing as cake.

“As I said, things that look easy when experts do them rarely are,” he says.

“I think you did an awesome job.”

“If awesome has suddenly become a synonym for terrible, then I agree.”

“Aww, come on. You’ll get better the more you do. We both will. Practice makes perfect.”

He gestures at the cupcake. “As this one isn’t suitable for public consumption anyway, we should taste-test it.”

I smirk. “I think you did a terrible job on purpose.”

He sighs. “If only.” He puts the icing bag down and picks up the cupcake. He stares at it for several long seconds, barely breathing.

I wait not so patiently. What is he thinking about?

“You—uh—mentioned something about—” He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

“About—?”

He opens his eyes. “Peeling the case of a cupcake and—” He stammers over the words.

“And—?”

“You know what you said.”

I do, but I need him to say it. I need him to ask me to do it. I need him to make the next move because I promised I’d slow down. I’m trying to behave.

He stares at the cupcake, licks his lips, and then makes eye contact with me. “Feed it to me.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

He holds the cupcake towards me. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“God help me, yes.”

Smiling, I accept the cupcake. I take my sweet time peeling off the case, showing him how much time I’d care I’d take over peeling off his clothes. If he’d let me. I brush the cupcake against his lips. He parts them, allowing me to slip the soft cake into his mouth. Icing flakes off on his moustache and lips.

He bites the cake in half, lashes fluttering. “It’s good. You should try it,” he says around his mouthful.

Instead of bringing the rest of the cupcake to me, I go to it, kissing him in the same motion. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him. Somehow, we manage to eat the spongy cake and sweet, sticky icing while kissing one another.

“It is good. We should try another.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“We can always make another batch. We have time.”

He picks up the cupcake I iced, takes the wrapper off, and puts it to my lips. We eat it Lady and the Tramp style, our lips meeting in the middle.

“This isn’t slowing down,” I say.

“No.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“You.”

“I was trying to be good.”

“You were, but you’re also mesmerising, beautiful, and irresistible.”

His praise makes me shiver. “Mmm, so are you, but we still have twenty-two cakes to decorate.”

He runs his hand up and down my side. “Can they wait?”

I loop my arms over his shoulders and clasp them against his nape. “I like this version of you.”

“What version is that?”

“A man who knows what he wants and takes it.”

“I want you, Cameron,” he says huskily. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Well, you’ve got me. What do you want to do with me?”

“Kiss you.”

I moan as he devours my mouth, licking any last remnants of icing from my lips, twirling his tongue against and around mine.

“Touch you.” He pushes my T-shirt out of the way so he can skim his hands over my skin.

I tilt my head back. He kisses my throat, his lips soft, his beard tickly.

“Oh, that’s so good. What else do you want to do with me?”

He grinds his groin against mine, reawakening my cock, which had gone limp during the film. “Make you come.”

“Mm, yes, please. What else?”

He chuckles. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s a good starter.” I nip his jaw and lip. “But what about the main course?”

“Sex?”

“Yes.” I squeeze his arse through his chinos. “I would love to slide my cock deep inside your arse.”

His pupils shrink.

I wince. “Too much, too fast?”

He cups my cheek tenderly and kisses me softly and slowly. “No. It’s just been a while since I had sex. I’ll need to douche.” His eyes gleam mischievously. “Why don’t I do that while you finish icing the cupcakes?”

I gasp and swat him across the chest. “That was your devious plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“No.” He whispers the words against my lips and kisses me again, this time with a lot more toe-curling passion.

“Liar,” I tease.

“Do you want me to douche or not?”

I whimper. “You know I do.” I push him away, turn him around, and smack his arse. “Go on. I want you all nice and clean for me by the time I’m done down here.”

He heads towards the door.

“And naked!”

He glances over his shoulder and smirks. “I’ll be ready and waiting for you.”

“You’d better be.” I pick up the piping bag and get to work.

I’m all hot and bothered again. Fingers crossed Euan hasn’t changed his mind by the time I get upstairs.