Page 68 of Bad Influence
I pause. “You bought chocolate cake? For me?”
“Come and see.”
Killian pushes off the doorframe and walks to the kitchen. I unfold my legs and get out of bed, following after him. On the kitchen counter, there’s a black bakery box. The bakery’s name is written across the top in delicate, gold lettering – Misery.
“Misery?” I ask, looking up at Killian with a pout. “Did you open a bakery, and not tell me?”
“Funny,” Killian says, acerbically. “I’m not miserable.”
“I doubt that. You’ve never even had cake.”
Killian narrows his eyes as I remove the tape from the bakery box and open it to find a chocolate cake with a butterfly drawn on it in yellow.
“I still can’t believe you bought this for me,” I say.
“It’s just chocolate cake, butterfly,” Killian says, brushing the backs of his fingers across my cheek.
“I know that, but no one has ever done this for me. Bought something just because they thought I’d like it,” I say, leaning into his touch.
“Miserable fucking people,” Killian says.
I snort. Grabbing a knife, I slice the cake and take a bite. Oh my gosh. This is the most decadent cake I’ve ever tasted. It tastes like chocolate heaven.
“So good,” I say, taking another bite. “This tastes like what I hope good sex will feel like.”
Killian watches me demolish the slice with amusement. “That good, huh?”
“Orgasmic,” I say.
“Good to know what I’m competing against.” His eyes heat, dropping to my mouth as I lick a bit of chocolate off my lips.
“You haven’t even tasted the cake yet,” I say.
Gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilts his head, pressing his lips against mine. Sparks shoot down my spine. I gasp, my mouth parting. Killian’s tongue pushes past my parted lips, tasting me once before he pulls back. The kiss probably lasted two seconds.
“Best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he growls.
I swallow, my breath stuttering. My eyes are locked on his mouth. “See? I told you it was good.”
“I wasn’t talking about the cake, butterfly.”
Just as I lean forward for another kiss, a proper one this time,there’s a knock on the door. With a groan, Killian presses a hard kiss on my mouth before going to open the door. Wes stands on the other side, his hair ruffled, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“Do you have duct tape?”
“Uh, yeah, hold on,” Killian says. I’m sure he intends to close the door on Wes and leave him standing outside, but Wes is quicker and he enters the apartment before Killian can close the door.
Killian glares at his back as Wes walks further into the apartment.
“Why do you need duct tape?” Killian asks.
“There’s a…situation in my apartment,” Wes says. “Nothing to worry about, and nothing a little duct tape won’t solve.”
“Do you want cake?” I offer.
“He’s here for duct tape,” Killian says grumpily.
“Does that mean he can’t eat cake?”
