Page 9

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I forget about the cannoli entirely. All I can think about is how badly I want to close the distance between us, to taste the sweetness of the sugar on his lips...

The timer dings, startling us both. I jump back, nearly knocking over the bowl of filling.

"Looks like we're ready for the next step," I say, my voice a bit shaky.

As we move to shape the cannoli shells, our hands brush again, leaving trails of flour on each other's skin.

Each touch feels electric, charged with a potential that makes my heart race.

I wonder if Elliott feels it too, this growing connection between us that seems to deepen with every shared laugh and gentle touch.

I set the plate of freshly filled cannoli on the small table by the window, settling onto the cushioned window seat. Elliott joins me, his large frame somehow fitting perfectly in the cozy nook. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow over us.

"These look amazing, Liv," Elliott says, picking up a cannoli. "I can't believe I actually helped make these."

I laugh, reaching for one myself. "Believe it. You're officially a cannoli master now."

As we bite into our creations, I savor not just the sweet, creamy filling and crisp shell, but also this moment of quiet intimacy. Elliott's knee brushes against mine, and I feel a flutter in my chest.

"So," I begin, gathering my courage, "I've been wondering... what made the great 'Iceman' decide to thaw out and ask a humble baker to his rugby match?"

Elliott's eyes meet mine, a mix of vulnerability and warmth in his gaze. "Honestly? I've been burned before. Badly. But there's something about you, Liv. You make me want to take that risk again."

His admission hits me like a gentle wave, washing away some of my own reservations. "I know that feeling," I confess. "After my last relationship ended, I threw myself into the cafe. It felt safer than opening up again."

Elliott nods, understanding in his eyes. "What happened?"

I take a deep breath, surprised at how easy it feels to share this with him. "He cheated. My family still thinks it’s my fault somehow." I roll my eyes, but the hurt still lingers. "What about you?"

"We were together since we were kids. She realized she prefers girls. Didn’t let me know.," Elliott says, his voice quiet. "It made me wary of letting anyone get close again."

As the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the room, our conversation flows naturally from past heartbreaks to shared dreams. I light a few candles, their warm glow adding to the intimate atmosphere.

"I can't believe I'm admitting this," Elliott chuckles, "but I've always wanted to learn how to make my gran's pavlova recipe. She swears it's all in the way you fold the egg whites."

I grin, leaning in conspiratorially. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be something of a pavlova expert. We could make that our next baking adventure."

"I'd like that," he says softly, his hand finding mine on the table. The touch sends a warm thrill through me, and I realize that for the first time in a long while, I'm not afraid of where this might lead.

As we continue to talk and laugh, sharing stories of childhood mishaps and professional triumphs, I feel something shifting between us. It's as if the walls we've both built are slowly crumbling, revealing the possibility of something beautiful and real.

The candlelight flickers across Elliott's face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes as he gazes at me. My heart races, and I feel a magnetic pull drawing us closer.

"Liv," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

I swallow hard, my fingers tracing patterns on his palm. "Me neither," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Elliott leans in, his lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine and makes my knees falter.

His kiss is soft at first, hesitant almost, as if he’s savoring the moment.

But when I respond, threading my fingers into his hair, it deepens—hungry, urgent, and utterly consuming.

My pulse quickens as his hands glide down my back, tracing the curve of my spine. His touch is both deliberate and searching, igniting sparks across my skin. The air around us seems to thrum with electricity, each shared breath pulling us closer until there’s no space left between us.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, breaking through the haze of desire.

I meet his gaze, my own breath ragged. “More than sure.”

The words seem to untether us. We stumble backward, his hands never leaving me, my own seeking him just as desperately. The trail of clothing we leave behind feels almost ceremonial, each discarded piece baring more than just skin.

When we reach the bed, Elliott eases me down onto the cool sheets, his movements unhurried but purposeful. His calloused hands explore my body with a reverence that leaves me breathless, his fingers brushing over my skin as though committing every inch of me to memory.

His kisses are everywhere—my lips, my neck, the hollow of my collarbone—each one sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through me. The weight of him, the press of his body against mine, feels grounding and exhilarating all at once.

Our lovemaking is a slow, deliberate dance of connection and surrender.

Every touch, every sigh, every whispered word feels like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

He moves with a mixture of power and gentleness, his strength tempered by the way he watches me, as though I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

I lose myself completely in him—in the rhythm we create, in the way his body responds to mine. Time seems to stand still, each moment stretching into eternity as passion and vulnerability entwine.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, skin still warm and slick with the aftermath of our shared intimacy. My head rests on his chest, and the steady beat of his heart lulls me into a contented haze. His fingers trace lazy patterns along my back, his touch as soothing as it is intimate.

In the quiet, I feel it—the depth of what just passed between us. More than lust, more than desire. It feels like something unshakable, something forever.

"That was..." Elliott trails off, a smile in his voice.

"Yeah," I agree, grinning up at him. "It really was."

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I never thought I'd find someone like you, Liv. Someone who sees past the 'Iceman' and just... gets me."

I trace lazy circles on his chest, feeling utterly content. "And I never thought I'd meet someone who understands my passion for baking the way you do. Or someone who'd willingly risk flour explosions just to spend time with me."

We both laugh softly, the sound filled with affection and shared joy.

A sharp rap at the door jolts us from our cozy reverie. I bolt upright, clutching the sheet to my chest.

"Liv! You there? It's Tilly!" A muffled voice calls through the wood.

I groan, burying my face in Elliott's shoulder. "It's my neighbor. She has the worst timing."

Elliott chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath me. "Should we pretend we're not home?"

I'm tempted, but knowing Tilly, she'd probably just keep knocking. With a sigh, I roll out of bed, frantically searching for something to throw on. "Hold on, Tilly!" I call out, my voice an octave higher than usual.

I emerge from the bedroom to find Elliott already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking unfairly put-together. He raises an eyebrow, smirking at my inside-out shirt and messy hair.

"Not. A. Word," I mutter, pointing a warning finger at him as I shuffle to the door.

I open it to reveal Tilly, resplendent in her Aquarium uniform of short khakis and navy polo shirt.

"Hey Liv!" she trills, sweeping past me. "My internet's doing crazy things again. Mind if I borrow your WiFi for a smidge? I'm in the middle of a very important —oh!"

She stops short, spotting Elliott. Her eyes dart between us, taking in my disheveled state. A knowing grin spreads across her face.

"Well, well," she purrs, "What do we have here? Liv, you sly minx!"

I feel my cheeks burning. "Tilly, this is Elliott. Elliott, meet my neighbor, Tilly."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Tilly says, extending her hand to Elliott. "My goodness, you're even more handsome in person than on the telly. Those rugby shorts really don't do you justice."

Elliott, to his credit, takes it all in stride. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tilly. I've heard Liv mention your... unique style."

"Unique!" Tilly cackles. "I like this one, Liv. Perhaps we can convince him to do a talk at the Aquarium. Now, about that WiFi..."

I scribble down the password for Tilly and I catch Elliott's eye. He's biting back a laugh, his eyes dancing with amusement. I grin back, feeling a surge of warmth. If he can handle Tilly's whirlwind presence with such grace, he can handle anything.

Once Tilly swans out with a wink and a promise of a girly catch-up, Elliott and I retreat to the balcony. The sun has set, leaving Auckland's skyline twinkling against the inky sky. We stand side by side, his arm around my waist, as a comfortable silence settles between us.

"So," I say finally, "think you can handle more surprise visits from my neighbor?"

Elliott turns to me, his expression steady in the dim light, a quiet anchor in the storm of my life. "Liv, I'd take on a hundred Tillys if it meant being with you."

My parents pushing, my ex circling, the ground beneath my feet threatening to shift—none of it matters when I'm with him. He makes the chaos fade, makes me feel strong. So, for now, I let it all go and just hold onto this moment. "Even if she tries to rope you into a speech at the Aquarium?"

A slow smile tugs at his lips. "Even then."