Perfecting the Odds (19 page)

“
My faults?”

“Yes, now.”

“Uncross your arms, and we have a deal.” She rolled her eyes and graced him with her full breasts to ogle. “Mmm,” he hummed with approval. “So damn gorgeous. Okay...Well, for one, I’m a spoiled brat. Being the only son, my mother pretty much dotes on me whenever I visit.” He raised his eyebrows, requesting if that was enough.

She shook her head. “Not good enough. A momma’s boy
’s not cutting it. Besides, you’re completely independent. It’s not like you live with her, right?” He shook his head. “Try again.”

             
He was having too much fun with her game. He raised his hands and began softly kneading her breasts, rolling his thumbs over her rosy nipples. She couldn’t help the moan but rocked against him to make her point to keep talking. “Message received,” he chuckled. “How about this? I have to be barefoot in the house. I hate wearing shoes.”

             
“Yeah, you and the rest of the world. That’s all you’ve got? A momma’s boy and not liking shoes? Boy, let’s take you to the nut house now.”

“I smoked weed once.”

“Once?! Shit, Michael! How do you think I made it through high school?” His velvety laugh vibrated beneath her, and she bit her lip. “So, there’s no dark secret that you wouldn’t even tell your best friend, something embarrassingly juicy perhaps?” She raised her brows, her face set in a come-on-now expression. Then she watched his pupils dilate as he inhaled.

***

              A secret? A fucking big one. He’d be damned if he would admit that now. She’d finally opened up to him, and even though she was searching for reasons to break off the relationship, he wasn’t about to give her an easy out.

             
She squinted as she gazed at him. “What was that, Michael?”

             
“What was what,” he asked, too surprised to be believable. Fuck.

             
“That look”—she waved her hands above his face—“like you’re hiding something from me.”

             
He attempted a look of confusion, brows furrowed and a slight head shake. His hands slowly slid down from her breasts to her waist. “I didn’t have a look.”

             
At his denial, Karis lifted herself off of his lap and walked toward her dresser. She shrugged on a tee shirt, stood still and jutted her arm toward the bedroom door. Her eyes were now miles away. “Leave.”

             
Michael jumped off the bed and strode toward her. “Karis? What’s wrong?”

             
She shut her eyes and shook her head vigorously. “You’re lying to me. And it’s big. I’ve seen that look one too many times in my life. Once, from the doctors when they said my parents didn’t feel pain during the accident. Bullshit. And the other when Robert told me he kept the cancer from me.” She drew in breath. “I’ll be damned if I ignore that look again. Not from
you
. Leave. Now.”

             
He cupped her chin, trying to get her to look at him. She jerked her face away. “Whatever you think you saw, that wasn’t it, Karis.”

             
She met his eyes, and he knew she saw the deceit, as clear as day. He couldn’t hide it, not from someone like Karis, someone who saw through bullshit as if it were a pane of glass. “Tell me. Tell me what you’re hiding. Are you married? Have kids? A convict? Gay? For chrissake, just tell me!” Karis bit her lip hard and her chin quivering, foretelling tears.

             
“Calm down, sweetheart. I’m not hiding anything. I’m not married. I don’t have any children-- that I’m aware of.” His lips curved into a crooked grin.

“Not funny
.”

“
I’ve never been arrested. And I think we both know I’m not gay.” He couldn’t help but smirk at the last remark.

             
She gnawed her bottom lip in contemplation. “So I should just give you the benefit of the doubt, huh? Just go with it and take the risk of drawing another shitty card in my already shitty hand?”

             
He smiled and clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “Please let me be your shitty card, Karis.”

This time
Karis could stifle neither the grin nor the laugh. It filled the tense room with much needed relief. Michael wrapped his arms around her waist and then slid them down to cup her buttocks, pressing his still throbbing cock against her. She shuddered and shook her head one last time.

“Fine, Michael. But I still don’t believe you’re not hiding something. I’ll trust that yo
u’ll tell me when you’re ready...You know, you should write for Hallmark. You’re so eloquent sometimes.”

Michael kissed her lips lightly.
Secret averted. Thank god. “Karis, even with all those things you think are faults, you’re still perfect for me.”

             
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Help me finish making Grace’s cupcakes, and I may forget that look that you
say
didn’t happen.”

             
He lifted her so that they were eye-to-eye. “Deal.” He drew her lips into a typical Michael kiss, one that left her breathless and wanting more than just his hands and mouth. Releasing her mouth, he slowly slid her down his body.

             
“I shouldn’t tell you this, Michael, but when you kiss me like that, I pretty much forget everything. That may be
your
secret weapon.”

“Duly noted,” he said before smacking her lightly on the
ass. They threw on their clothes and headed to the kitchen.

Karis put on her ridiculous apron and grabbed the spare, less offensive one from the hook in her pantry.

“Wouldn’t
want to mess up your clothes,” she said slinging it over his neck. She touched his hips lightly to turn him and tied it loosely behind his back. She stole the opportunity to run her eyes over the best ass she’d ever seen on a man. With a bite to her lip, she gave a playful swat to signal she was finished.

He turned with his hands out.
“How do I look?”

She
assessed his body slowly. “You’ll do”
me soon enough
, she finished inwardly. Simmer down. Before she allowed hormones to overrun restraint, she distracted herself by gathering the necessary materials from her cabinets. She pulled out her canary yellow Kitchen Aid mixer, two mixer bowls, measuring cups, a heavy duty sauce pan, spoons, a candy thermometer, and finally sugar and eggs. Michael’s hooded eyes had her body humming as she flitted around her kitchen gathering items, keeping her body in a constant state of need.

S
he glanced back at him, leaning against the island, ankles crossed, hands on the counter behind him a.k.a
Sexy as all get out.

With a heavy sigh, s
he leaned down and pulled out the cutting board from the cabinet in front of him and nudged him with her hip to retrieve a knife from the drawer.  Finally, she placed the materials on the island in front of Michael.

“
Okay, grab the sticks of butter from the fridge. Slice them in one-inch pads and then put them in that glass bowl. Try not to finger the butter too much. It has to stay firm and cold. When you’re finished, put the bowl in the refrigerator. Any questions?”

Michael
gulped and shook his head. She stared at him one moment longer and narrowed her eyes before turning to her own counter space to begin separating the egg whites. The man was way too accommodating all of the sudden. And way too quiet. Womanly instincts had her neck hair prickling.

Adding
the egg whites to her mixer bowl, she turned it on a medium-high setting and let the machine work its magic. She then moved to the stove to begin heating the simple sugar mixture. Just as she placed the candy thermometer into the syrup mixture, she felt Michael’s hand brush her buttocks before he settled at her side. She smiled but kept her eyes on the simmer working its way to a slow boil. Karis leaned down as she stirred the liquid, watching for signs of overheating, making sure the bubbles were medium-sized and rolling steadily.

S
he continued to stir and broke the silence. “When making this type of buttercream, you have to heat the sugar to the soft ball stage. Hard ball stage would form rock candy, and that doesn’t make for very good frosting.” She smiled as he placed his hand on her lower back, though her eyes never left the thermometer. “If the mixture isn’t heated to the
exact
temperature, then when you add the cold butter to the whipped sugar infused egg white mixture, the frosting will fall, so to speak, and become runny. Our goal is creamy yet airy.” She hovered her finger over the mixture and drew imaginary circles. “Notice the large bubbles forming. It’s getting closer… So if you would, take the butter out and wait for me by the mixer.” She almost hated giving him another task. She loved the feeling of his hands on her. It seemed he couldn’t help himself but touch her whenever he was close.

“
Ready?”

“Bu
rsting at the seams here.” She gave him a curious look. “Karis, you just told me not to finger the butter then followed that naughty image with a conversation—coming from your sexy mouth no less--containing the words stick, hard ball, rock, heated, and creamy …so yeah, I’m literally ready to explode.” He looked down and Karis followed his gaze. Her mouth fell open.

“
Wow” was the first sound that came to mind. “I didn’t mean to…uh…”

“
Be the sexiest damn cock tease and drive me crazy with the need to be inside you?” He shrugged before grinning wickedly. She really didn’t mean to put him in such a state. However, if she had less control, she would drop to her knees and remedy the situation, but she was a woman who could had a strangle hold on her urges
… as long as your sober
, her bitchy conscience reminded her.

“Okay
then…uh, let’s begin. I’ll drizzle in the syrup. When I say go, drop in pads of butter every few seconds or so. Keep going unless I say stop. Okay?”

“Ten-Four,” he said deadpan. She laughed heartily at the serious expression on his face.

“You’ll do fine, Michael. Relax,” she said, noticing his expression set with unwavering earnest did
not
relax. And that made her giggle some more. Despite his uneasiness, he executed his task with Marine-quality competence, and after five minutes of whipping, the frosting was finished. Karis dipped her finger to gather some off the edge of the bowl. She held it out to him.

“
Taste,” she mouthed. Michael didn’t hesitate as he leaned forward and covered her finger. He sucking her lightly and pulled back slowly. He lingered at the end, swirling his tongue around the tip of her finger, reminding her of what his tongue had done to her earlier. And
those places
remembered, too.

Her
heart thundered in her chest, rapidly sending a heated tingle over her skin. She quirked up her brows. “Good,” she choked out.

“
Too good.”

She
sucked in a breath and nodded. “Uhm, unlike American buttercream, with Italian buttercream you don’t have the graininess of sugar…is it smooth enough?”

“
Mmm, definitely,” he said. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she instinctively wet her lips.

“
But not too sweet?” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the tiny smear of frosting on his lower lip.

“
Not sure.” His voice dropped to a low, husky timbre. She furrowed her brow.

“Another taste then?” she rasped.  He nodded before
gathering some frosting onto his own finger. He snaked his other arm around her waist and pulled her until she was a finger-length from his mouth.

“
Here. You’re the expert,” he said, spreading his cream-covered finger along her lips. She licked her lips first then opened her mouth and slowly drew in his finger. She was close enough to see his pupils dilate and feel his breath escape as his lips parted.  His sugary breath swept across her cheek, drugging her with the need pleasure him. Sliding her tongue along the length of his finger, she sucked two more times before pulling back, lightly scraping her teeth on the tip of his finger.

“Perf
ect,” she whispered before licking the residual frosting from the corner of her mouth. He groaned low before his other hand slid up her waist and cupped her breast. Her breath caught as his lips hovered above hers.  When his tongue peeked out and oh-so-lightly tasted the corner of her mouth, she moaned. He paused a second more before slowly slanting over her mouth and dipping his tongue inside. He made love to her mouth, savoring the flavor, memorizing before pulling away. “Definitely perfect,” he said then kissed her once more on the corner of her mouth.

He ran his fingers through his hair and rolled his shoulders. 
“You drive me fucking insane, Karis,” he said as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. She, however, was rapidly waving her hands in front of her face, not too proud to disguise his effect on her.