Page 49 of When the Baker Met the Dragon

His smile is very nice, and his gaze is confident and kind. I give up trying to figure anything out, edge forward, and close my eyes.

Delixian’s lips are cool and quick. His tongue darts between my lips and I tangle mine with his. Desire slips down my spine and coils low in my stomach. I open my mouth further and his hand slides around the back of my head. The kiss deepens, and it feels lovely, but my body isn’t responding like it did to Cyrus. I don’t feel like I’m going to explode with want. It is good, though. Like getting a pleasant massage at the Acorn Inn after a long day of working dough.

He breaks away and his eyes are shining. “Kaya,” he whispers. “Promise you’ll dance with me once your shift is over?”

“All right. I’ll meet you over there as soon as I’m finished.”

He leaves with a wave.

“Good afternoon. Or should I say evening?” a new voice says.

It’s my next donor. He’s a goblin with that same curl to his hair that the butcher and his daughter have.

“I’m visiting my brother. My name’s Thirron.”

“Are you a butcher too? I wasn’t sure if that was a family business going back or not.”

“We look that much alike, do we? You knew who I was right away.” He seems delighted.

“You do.”

He grins. “I was a butcher. My family has been in the business for four generations. I’ve gone into vegetables though, so I’m the proverbial black sheep now.”

“Ooo, a rebel.” I lean forward and pucker up.

A very familiar voice breaks my concentration and I turn my head to see Cyrus taking the seat at the other kissing booth. Thirron misses the mark and kisses my temple.

“Ah, sorry,” he stutters out.

“I, what?” I mutter.

Cyrus is about to kiss a leggy fairy. I can’t breathe. In slow motion, he looks my way, then lets her lay a kiss right on his lips. My stomach twists and sours.

“Everything all right?” Thirron asks.

I blink and shake my head. “Yes, so sorry. Go right ahead.” My smile feels more like a grimace, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He comes close, his large body taking up most of the booth’s wooden frame.

“What do you like in a kiss?” he asks. “Should I be easygoing or bring it on?”

“I don’t know.” I wish he would just be confident and do it already.

He nods nervously and kisses me. It’s a simple one and does absolutely nothing for me. He says something else, and I mumble good night, but I’m too busy eyeing Cyrus’s next donor to worry about Thirron.

Blessed Stones, Tully is in Cyrus’s line now, too, farther back. I laugh and she waves at me, shimmying her hips. Argos is with her, and I wonder if he’ll get a kiss too.

Cyrus is talking to the next person in his line. She must be a tourist because I don’t recognize her. He comes out from behind the booth to kiss this tourist with the long black hair. He drops her into a dip of sorts, and as he kisses her, he looks up at me and makes direct eye contact.

Desire zings down my body. I clench my thighs. His half-lidded gaze stays locked on me while he nibbles the tourist’s bottom lip. Then he is raising her up and she is laughing and grinning like she just won a bag of gold. Cyrus says something toher, his hand on her lower back, then he glances my way again and raises both eyebrows like he is challenging me.

I feel so strange. Too wound up. Like I’ve had five cups of very strong tea with absolute mounds of sugar.

I could leave the booth and opt out of this bizarre competition Cyrus seems to want between us. Or I could stay.

Yep, I’m going to surprise him and join in on this little game.

I wink at Cyrus, not sure if it comes out right. His face goes slack for a second, and then he is grinning fiercely. Always the competitor.

I face my next donor. It’s another tourist, this one of average height with very dreamy lavender eyes. He’s likely part fairy. His kiss is sweet and solid, very pleasant. I part my lips to see if he’ll follow my lead. I wish he would lead, but it seems like everyone is too polite. I shouldn’t complain, but I can’t help silently comparing all kisses to Cyrus’s.