Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking (14 page)

BOOK: Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking
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“I’m just making a hot chocolate. Would you like one?” My voice was slightly too high, but under the circumstances, I thought I was doing quite well.

“Hmm…I do feel like something sweet.” He had moved closer and was standing directly behind me.
His skin smells like sunshine,
I thought dazedly. I felt him move the thick curtain of my hair to the side to expose my neck before his lips started slowly kissing up toward my ear, sending goose bumps of pleasure straight down to my toes.

“What are you doing?” I breathed, gripping the bench for support as my knees went weak.

“Distracting you. Maybe you’ll have another ‘lapse.’” His large hands went around my waist, pulling me against him and breathing in deeply. His hands wandered up to cup my breasts through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, tweaking the nipples slightly when they hardened into points. My wanton body arched out to increase the contact, and my head fell back against his chest.

One of his hands left my breast and slipped inside the waistband of my pajama pants and down between my legs, and my eyes rolled back in my head. My hands gripped his thighs, and I was carried away by the waves of pleasure rolling over me from the effects of his long and very talented fingers. I felt him grow hard against my back, and I reached around to find him and easily slipped a hand inside his loose pants to stroke his impressive length firmly. He groaned in response and started thrusting into my hand.

“I want to be inside you,” he said raggedly, undoing the drawstring on my pants, which fell into a puddle on the floor. He turned me to face him, and we started kissing voraciously as he lifted me up onto the bench, moved in between my thighs, and slid smoothly inside of me; I was wet and ready.

“Wait! We need a condom.” I had no thoughts about stopping him. What few thoughts I’d had since he walked into the room had led to the conclusion that I had already been unfaithful and might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, as the saying went. It was pure sex, uncomplicated by baggage, simply pleasure. Why not, now that I’d already crossed that line? More than crossed it, really; I’d galloped crazily over it with barely a passing glance to mark my passage.

“God, you feel so good.” He moved his hips in a circular motion. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I gasped.

“Okay, hold on.” He grabbed me around the waist with one hand, and the other supported my bottom, and while still inside me, he shuffled us over to his room on the far side of the common room. With a slight jerk that sent him further inside me, he opened the door and, closing it with one foot, fell with me underneath him onto the bed.

“That was pretty impressive,” I whispered as he leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved a condom. Not many men would have been able to carry me.

A slight smile made the corners of his mouth turn up. “I thought you may not let me back in, so I had to make the most of it.” He began to thrust gently as he kissed me until my head spun.

“Condom!” I gasped.

“Yes, okay. You sure?” He grinned cheekily.

“Absolutely,” I said as firmly as I could. He ripped the condom packed with his teeth to open it and withdrew.

“Shall I do it?” I offered.

“I’m not sure I could hold on with you touching me. Next time.” He rolled it quickly onto himself and slid back up inside me.

“There may not be a next time,” I said breathily, my eyes closing.

“I’ll have to make sure there is, then.”

“You’re very cocky.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty well-endowed, so I guess you could say that.” His smile widened into a grin.

“Hmm…” I couldn’t find the words to carry on the conversation, so I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull his face toward mine and started kissing him. He responded enthusiastically, and we were carried away again with the delights of each other’s bodies and the thrill of illicit sex.

Chapter Eleven

I W
OKE
B
OLT
U
PRIGHT
at the sounds of people making breakfast in the common room next door.

“Fuck, fuck,
fuck!”
I said under my breath, completely panicked. Jack would be wondering where I was and why I hadn’t gone back to bed last night. I reached for my clothes and started to get dressed, but my pajama bottoms were missing. Shit! They were still on the floor in the kitchen! There was no way out and it was going to be ugly and very public and I would have to do it with no pants on. I sat on the bed chewing my lip, wondering what to do and how on earth I was going to get up off the bed, knowing what awaited beyond that door was utter humiliation, for Jack and myself.

Anders’ huge arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back to him.

“Good morning.” He smiled lazily, his eyes still half closed.

“Oh, God, Anders!” I wailed quietly. “It’s a disaster! I fell asleep, and now everyone is awake and having breakfast. If I walk out of your room, everyone is going to know. Jack is probably already looking for me!”

“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “I’ll tell him you went out.”

“My coat is still hanging near the door. He’ll know I didn’t. And my pants are still on the kitchen floor!”

“No problem. Leave it to me.” He hoisted himself off the bed, threw on a T-shirt over his naked chest, and pulled on his pajama pants that were lying on the floor. He opened the door and quickly walked out, closing it behind him. I waited anxiously but couldn’t hear anything for several minutes until I heard Jack’s voice asking whoever was in the common room if they’d seen me. Several voices answered “no,” and then I heard Anders say, “I saw her earlier this morning. She was on her way out to the village. She said to tell you she wanted to let you sleep but wasn’t feeling like skiing this morning and you should go without her.”

“Why was she going to the village?” He sounded puzzled.

“I think she said she was going for a walk then getting a massage and doing some shopping.”

“Oh.” I could hear the relaxation in Jack’s voice, clearly mollified by the explanation. It was something I would do, and Jack would be happy to avoid having to go shopping with me. The conversation continued on, Jack arranging to ski with some of the others who were there, saying his knee felt better. After a few minutes, I could hear them collecting their things and heading for the door.

“Not skiing today?” someone asked.

“I’ve got some scripts I have to read, but I’ll go out later. Have a good day!” Anders answered cheerily, his voice getting closer to the door. He opened it and slipped inside, handing me my pajama bottoms that he had rolled into a small ball and concealed under his loose T-shirt. We waited silently, looking at each other until the front door slammed for the last time and the lodge was quiet.

“What did you do about my coat?”

“I put it underneath mine. It is completely covered.”

“Oh…good thinking. You are really quite adept at this.”

He was completely calm and professional, and I didn’t want to think about how many times he had done this before. Clearly, potentially jealous husbands didn’t faze him.

“I’m motivated by the proximity of your luscious body.” He flopped down onto the bed and pulled me over on top of him, his hands running up and down the curve of my back. “And now we have all morning with no interruptions and a nice warm bed to get better acquainted.” He pulled my mouth down to his and kissed me thoroughly until my toes tingled and my anxiety melted away. I gave in to the liquid desire pulsing through my veins and his enthusiastic and inventive lovemaking. By the time the morning was over, there was no part of either of us that hadn’t been kissed or licked, and I left him sated and sleepy in his bed. On rubbery legs, I climbed the stairs to my room and had a long shower to wash away the external traces of my unfaithfulness.

I slept for a while and was reading on the bed when Jack returned in the afternoon. He suggested we go out for dinner, and I quickly agreed. I had deliberately not gone down into the common room for the rest of the day, and not seeing Anders at dinner would give me some much needed space. It had been a close call this morning, and throwing away my marriage for a holiday fling was really stupid. Jack deserved better than that. He shouldn’t have to suffer public humiliation because I was weak and horny.

I fought the urge to seek out Anders, though he occupied my thoughts as if he were a narcotic. Like a glutton, I wanted to wallow in the intoxicating allure of him and the way he made me feel: like a woman able to revel in her sexuality, confident that she was made to give and receive pleasure. But as I had to keep reminding myself, the reality was that I wasn’t free and my life had other guises I was expected to dress in: mother and wife, sexuality firmly in check. Part of me railed against it, but what was the point? So, my partner no longer saw me as a sexual being, but I didn’t generally see myself as such either. There was no longer the time or the inclination for the abandon that it required, should the desire have been there in the first place. I had cheerfully killed off that part of myself after our children were born, with what I think was a quiet sigh of relief from Jack.

Anders, on the other hand, had resurrected the lusty beast, who was now loath to be leashed again. With only two more days left, I could manage this, I told myself. A return to domesticity would surely anesthetize whatever remained alive after the holiday was over, and then I could decide with a cool head what to do about my marriage.

I dressed with greater care than usual to go out that night, clothing immaculate and makeup perfect. I blow-dried my hair until it fell in a glossy dark brown sheet around my shoulders. I stared at myself in the mirror, surprised that I looked the same as always, light golden brown eyes staring back at me, unchanged. I examined my face carefully, sure that some evidence of my infidelity would show there like a brand for everyone to see. Apparently not, though. Just the usual face looking quizzically back at me. Jack, oblivious as always, simply asked if I was ready. I nodded, applying a last coat of rose-colored gloss, hoping and not hoping to see Anders on the way out.

Our friends were relaxing on the lounges, reading, talking, and drinking large glasses of red wine when we walked out. Anders was sitting with them, with his back to us. I didn’t look directly at him, but I could see him in my peripheral vision turning around. Involuntarily, I looked down at him. His face twisted back to look at us, his head big and leonine, blue eyes admiring, but with a telltale look that was far more intimate than should be there. Heat flowed through me, and I had the foolhardy urge to go to him and fulfill the promise in his eyes. Disturbed by the ease at which I might be discovered by something as simple as our looking at each other, I hurried us out the door before Jack noticed.

As usual, dinner was nice and uniformly pleasant. We had been together as a couple since our early twenties, so it was easy to slip into our default interaction: polite, courteous, and non-controversial. Jack said little, but I was used to our companionable silence. As long as I didn’t think about Anders and flashes of his naked body pressed to mine, the feel of him moving inside me, I was fine and the blood didn’t rush inappropriately to heat my cheeks.

But the lack of obligation to make conversation left me time to think about Jack. Was I happy? The conventional wisdom is that something has to be broken in a relationship in order for someone to cheat, but nothing had happened in recent history to fundamentally change my feelings toward Jack, and I had never been tempted to cheat before. Our relationship had its issues, but it wasn’t bad, just not that exciting. Our primary interaction was as parents, rather than lovers, something that seemed fairly average and to be expected.

I thought we would find each other again later when the kids had left or work no longer required so much of our attention. Had we let it go too far? Had our connection slipped away and neither of us cared enough to notice? I had no answer. Did I still desire him? I looked at Jack, carefully evaluating him. He was tall and good looking, slightly weathered by the years but still handsome in a more distinguished way. Though by no means perfect looking, he had become better looking with age and graying hair.

He looked up from his food and met my eyes, and instantly I hit on the problem. His gaze was impersonal, unemotional, and it was the way he had come to look more and more in recent years. I couldn’t actually recall the last time he looked at me with any sort of emotion in his eyes. I had mistaken it for an evenness of temper and far preferable to the disdain I sometimes caught in the eyes of my friends’ partners, but maybe it was worse. Love and hate were at least in the same ball park. Indifference was something else altogether.

Even happy or exciting events in my life failed to raise anything but the barest traces of interest. Jack had read snatches of the original book when I insisted, but he always looked like I was trying to torture him by making him read a book about cake, which he had little interest in, apart from eating it on occasion. When I discussed the publishing deal, he smiled absently, in his mind already making the journey to his desk and the call of his most serious relationship: work. Though he never said it, I knew he thought his working was more important than being physically present in family life. It was his way of providing for us, showing that he loved us by allowing us to be comfortable, in a way he could no longer express verbally. Slowly, so slowly, I hadn’t really noticed it; he was turning into his father. How long before he started slipping silently from rooms?

BOOK: Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking
11.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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