![]() I’m a terrible friend for hoping Ellie might be later still. He smiles and then turns away to wash his hands. He slides a sharp knife through the cake, then serves it, handing me the plate and a fork. “The cake bar,” I say with a small smile as I move away from the register and along the counter, where I pop onto a tall metal stool. If I sit there, I can keep talking with him. “Want me to bring this to you at a table or the cake bar?” I’m not sure one guy in a cake shop will tick all my boxes, but I’d like to learn how many checkmarks he can make. I haven’t met someone who revs my engine on all cylinders. ![]() That’s probably why I’m holding my V-card at age twenty-six. I want toned arms, kind eyes, a clever brain, and a big heart. True, I have a thing for blazing guns like his. ![]() It goes with polka dots,” he says, his gaze sailing up and down my dress.Īs he moves to the display case, strong arms reaching in to grab the cake, I try to look away. “But I’d also recommend the vanilla celebration cake. Then he exhales heavily, as if he’s recalibrating. ![]() “It tastes like what you should have.” The rasp of his voice thrums deliciously across all my erogenous zones, which, right now, include every single molecule in and on me. ![]()
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