Sweet Possession Read online

  “Give her a chance, will you? I can remember you being late, on occasion. For example, last week when Billy refused to untie you from your bedpost.”

  Joey wiggles his brows at me as he tosses his wrapper into the trashcan. “That lateness was totally worth it. As were the rope burns on my wrists.”

  I roll my eyes at him just as the front door dings open. A young woman, probably close to my age, comes barreling through the doors, eyes reddened and misty. She walks up to the counter, tucking her clutch under her arm.

  I smile, setting my muffin down on the counter. “Good morning. How can we help you?”

  She lets out a shaky breath, looking around the bakery quickly before meeting my eyes. “I don’t know if you can help me. I know this is terribly last minute, but you’re my only hope at this point.”

  Joey steps up next to me. “Are you okay? Would you like a glass of water or something?”

  She shakes her head and offers him a weak smile. “Oh, no, thank you.” She flicks her stare back to me. “You make wedding cakes, right?”

  “She makes kick-ass wedding cakes,” Joey corrects, motioning toward me. “Not only do they turn out looking fabulous, but they taste amazing. Trust me. I’ve eaten my fair share.”

  The young woman’s face seems to relax a bit but not completely. “I’m getting married, and the bakery I had originally lined up to make my wedding cake closed down. They didn’t even tell me. I went there this morning to make my final payment and the place is boarded up.”

  A sickening feeling rumbles in my gut. I can’t imagine having that happen to me. “Jesus. That’s awful. When is the wedding?” I ask.

  She winces. “Saturday. Like I said, I know this is last minute. I’ve been to every other bakery in town and you’re my last option.” She looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. It’s just… I don’t know what else to do. I need to have a cake. I’ll pay you extra. Double if I have to.”

  I reach my hand out and place it on her shoulder, prompting her to lift her gaze. “You don’t have to pay me double. I’d love to make your wedding cake.”

  “Really?” Her soft voice is filled with a cautious hope.

  Joey loops his hand through my elbow and pulls me back, dropping his lips to my ear. “Are you crazy? You’ll have enough to do on Saturday getting ready for your own wedding. How will you have time for this?”

  “You’re getting married on Saturday, too?” the woman asks. Her excitement seems to fade as she glances between Joey and me. “Maybe he’s right. You’ll be so busy that day. It’s okay if you can’t do it.”

  I shrug off Joey and smile at her. “I won’t be that busy. And besides, your cake will be done the night before. I’ll just need to add the finishing touches to it that morning.” I step closer to the counter. “But I probably won’t have time to deliver it. Would it be a problem if someone stopped by here that morning to pick it up?”

  Her eyes widen as she fidgets with the clutch under her arm. “No. Not at all. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  I smile and point to my consultation table. “Why don’t you have a seat over there and you can tell me all about what kind of cake you want for your big day.”

  The sorrowed mood she entered the shop with has completely vanished, replaced with that typical bride-to-be joy I love seeing. As she makes her way toward the table, I turn and see Joey shaking his head at me.

  “What?” I ask quietly.

  His lip curls up in the corner as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muffin still in his hand. “You. You’d be late to your own wedding if it meant making some stranger’s day perfect. Not many people would do that.”

  I reach underneath the counter and grab my design binder. “You’d do it, too, Joey Holt. I know you would.”

  “Not for just anybody. You or Juls? Yes. But you, cupcake, you’d do it for somebody you don’t even know. And that’s what makes you amazing.”

  I straighten up and blink heavily, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. “That’s what you should say.”

  His brow furrows in confusion. “Huh?”

  I walk up to him and shift my binder to one side of my body so I can wrap my free arm around his waist. I lay the side of my face against his chest. “On Saturday. I know you’re worried about giving your Man of Honor speech. It doesn’t have to be long. You should just say that.” I let go of him and see his glowing smile.

  “Oh, I’m going to rock that speech. Don’t you worry. Now, while you do your bride thing, is there anything you’d like me to do?” I don’t say a word. I simply grin at him and shift my eyes toward the kitchen. He closes his eyes tightly while reaching up and pinching the top of his nose. “Of course. You’re lucky I love you.”

  “I am,” I reply, rounding the counter and taking my seat at the table. I lay my book out and open it up, turning it so the excited young woman practically bouncing in her seat can look at my portfolio. “Here you go. This is some of what I can do, but I’m not limited to this. Take a look, see if there’s anything you like. I can modify just about anything in there. And the cake and icing flavor choices are listed in the back.”

  She smiles wide and slides the book closer to her, her eyes shifting between each picture.

  Joey’s right. I would do this for anybody. Because the look on her face right now, the blissful glow radiating from her, this look is totally worth it. It’s what makes my job so rewarding. The long hours. The late nights of baking. The sometimes overly-picky clients. I love my job because I get to see this look. And even if I am a few minutes late to my own wedding, it won’t matter.

  Nothing will ruin that day.

  “Try and suck in a little more,” the woman says behind me as she struggles to zip and button my dress.

  If I suck in anymore, I might actually crack a rib. Thanks a lot, five-mile run. You obviously were pointless. I shift on my feet and brace myself against the mirror with my hands while I take in shallow breaths. “I am sucked in. How close is it to fastening?” She pulls the material taut and I gasp, dropping a hand down to my diaphragm.

  “There. Have you been eating a lot?”

  “No,” I barely manage to get out. “Jesus Christ. I can’t have it be this tight for Saturday. I’ll pass out before the ceremony starts.” I spin around and see five pairs of eyes on me. Two amused sets, courtesy of my best friends, two motherly pairs full of anxiety, and the distraught-looking set belonging to the seamstress. My mother’s jaw is tight, her face full of discontentment. “I swear to God, Mom. I haven’t been eating a lot.”

  “Did you have a lot to drink lately? Like in the past week?” the seamstress asks, stepping forward and grabbing onto sections of my train.

  I don’t reply right away, and my mother decides to cut in. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Dylan. Don’t you know not to drink alcohol at least a week before your final fitting? That’s common sense.”

  “To who? And it was my bachelorette party. Of course there was drinking.” I look down at the hands tugging the side of my dress. “Can’t you take it out a little?”

  She sighs, flattening her hand against the material and smoothing it down the front. “I could. But if it’s just tight from drinking, I wouldn’t alter it. As long as you don’t drink anymore this week and stick with a low-carb diet, it should fit perfectly on Saturday.”

  Well, fuck me.

  I grimace at the seamstress. “But I love carbs. And I’m a baker. I taste-test all my stuff.”

  “I’ll take that burden off your hands,” Joey offers, stepping up and putting his hands on his hips. His gaze trails up my dress to my face. “I must say, it does look seriously hot on you skin-tight. Fashion before comfort, cupcake.”

  “It’s too tight. She can barely breathe in it,” Juls states. She smiles up at me. “But you do look amazing. I’ll never forget when you tried this on for me the first time.”

  I shake my head at her, playing over the
memory of that day in my head. “Only you can get me to try on a wedding dress when I’m not even engaged.”

  She reaches out and squeezes my hand lovingly. “I think we both knew Reese was going to be seeing you in this dress.”

  I blush, putting my other hand on top of hers. Yup. I definitely knew.

  “I must say, I absolutely love this dress, Dylan.” Mrs. Carroll walks up to stand in front of the pedestal I’m on. She motions with her hand for me to twirl around and I humor her. “You look stunning in it. I love all this lace and the pearls on the back. And this train. My goodness. Absolutely gorgeous.” She moves around me and grabs the train of my dress, fanning it out in front of me. “My son is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

  “And his sperm count,” Joey snickers under his breath. I glare down at him and he clears his throat as Juls elbows him in the side. “Well, it looks like I’ll be the only one partying Friday night at The Tavern. Fine by me. And just in case this needs to be said, I’m retired from Brooke babysitting duty.”

  My mother steps up next to Maggie and looks at Joey critically. “Joseph, I will not have anyone showing up to this thing Saturday hung over, so keep that in mind, please. This will be a classy event.”

  “Of course it will be. I’ll be there,” Joey retorts. “Nothing screams class like the sight of me in a tux.”

  I spin around on my pedestal and look at myself in the mirror while the four of them talk amongst themselves. Even though my dress is uncomfortably tight right now, it still looks just as amazing as it did the first time I stepped into it. Lace upon lace, it’s so elegant I feel almost undeserving of wearing it. But no other dress is worthy of Reese. This has always been the one he was meant to rip off me. So, even though my love affair with carbs has been my longest and second-most-satisfying relationship, it will have to be sacrificed. Because there is no way in Hell I am not wearing this dress in five days. Maggie says her son will surely lose his mind on Saturday at the sight of me in this.

  And that’s exactly the reaction I’m going for.

  After peeling off my dress and being reminded what foods and beverages to avoid for the next five days, I say goodbye to everyone and make my way out to Sam. Reese and I will be staying at the loft every night this week, which I’m grateful for. I want to have as much time there as possible since I’ll be moving out this weekend. Juls, Joey, and I will be having our last sleepover together on Friday night there while the boys all stay at Ian’s condo. That took some major convincing on my part; Reese doesn’t like being away from me, not even for one night. But I begged, telling him it’ll be sweeter if we go a little bit without seeing each other before the wedding. He was still reluctant until I told him I didn’t want him seeing our wedding cake beforehand. That got him to agree to it. He appreciates my work more than any other person and knows I want him to be surprised. And now I’ll have two wedding cakes to tackle on Friday night after the rehearsal, so he might as well hang out with the guys and have some fun.

  As I walk up to the driver’s side of my trusted delivery van, I notice something red on the windshield. A stand on my toes and reach my hand across the glass, grabbing the single red rose tucked underneath my windshield wiper. I study it curiously and smile. Roses are definitely not Reese’s style. Nor is any flower. He’s way more original when it comes to sweet gestures. But even though this isn’t his typical way of showing me he’s thinking of me, or that he loves me, it still warms my heart.

  The sound of a car slowing down next to me catches my attention. Turning, I see Joey’s red Civic come to a stop and the passenger window rolling down. He lowers his head to see me. “What’s up, cupcake? Everything okay?” I hold out the flower in front of me and see Joey’s face contort into a snarl. “Goddamn it, Billy. One fucking gesture would be nice. I’m a major fan of flowers.”

  I try to contain my laughter but fail at the sight of his irritated face. “So not like Reese, though. Maybe Billy put it there for me.” I grab my door handle and duck my head down, winking at my assistant. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He speeds off down the street, no doubt on his way to give Billy an earful as I hop up into Sam. After placing my rose on the passenger seat, I buckle up and pull away from the curb. It’s late, already after 8:00 p.m., and I know as soon as I put my head on my pillow, I’m going to pass out.

  Once I enter the security code, setting the alarm for the front door of the shop, I grab a small glass off one of the back racks in my kitchen work area. I fill it with water and place the rose in it, putting it in the middle of my worktop. Taking the steps two at a time, I make my way up the stairs and swing the door open.

  There are boxes everywhere. On my bed. On the floor. On the kitchen counter. Way too many boxes for the amount of stuff I have. I close the door behind me and peek around my screen, seeing more boxes filling the space around my bed. “Jesus.”

  The bathroom door swings open and Reese emerges, a cloud of steam surrounding him. He’s dressed in only his boxers with a towel draped over his shoulder. I moan softly at his appearance. The man could seriously rock a shampoo commercial.

  He rubs the towel over this head. “Hi. Did you just get here?”

  I nod, glancing around the space and motioning with my hand around the room. “Where did all the boxes come from?”

  “A guy at work brought them in for me when I told him we were moving you this week. I’ve gotten a lot of stuff packed away already.” He places his towel on the counter, the crease in his brow becoming prominent as he surveys my expression. “Are you okay?”

  I move over to the bed and sit down, kicking my shoes off. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on top, staring at one of the boxes Reese has labeled ‘miscellaneous’. I’m not ready to pack. Not yet. But I get it. It makes sense to start.

  I feel the bed dip behind me and hear the soft creak of the mattress.

  “Come up here.”

  I turn, seeing him sitting with his back against my headboard. Letting go of my knees, I crawl toward him and straddle his lap. His hands run up my thighs, stopping on my hips. I let my eyes wander over his face, admiring his features before settling on his eyes that are studying me. Always watching. “Hi.”

  His lip twitches. “Hi, yourself. What are you thinking about?”

  I trace the muscles of his arm with my finger, trailing up toward his shoulder. “That I’m not ready to say goodbye to this place.” I see his smile fade and shift closer, feeling his hands wrap around my waist. I drop my forehead so it’s resting against his, my fingers interlocking behind his neck. “It’s not because I don’t want to live with you. Please, don’t think that.”

  He licks his lips before exhaling roughly. “I don’t. I wish we could live here. I know how important this space is to you. But with us trying to start a family now, I don’t see how it would work. We’re going to need more than one bedroom.” I nod against him, feeling his fingers trace along the exposed skin of my back where my tank top has ridden up. “Dylan, I’ll pay for you to keep this place if it’ll make you happy. You can use it as storage or for whatever you want. Do you want me to do that?”

  “No. It wouldn’t make sense to pay for a space we really wouldn’t use anymore. It’s fine. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to see the boxes yet.”

  He frowns. “I’m sorry. I knew this would be hard for you so I figured I would do the packing. I’ll do it all, I don’t care.”

  I run my finger along his jaw, feeling the day-old stubble tickle my skin. “You’re too sweet to me. How much did you get done?”

  “About half. I found your yearbooks.”

  I drop my head and cover my eyes with my hand. “Oh, God. Please tell me you didn’t.” Why the hell did I keep those? I know everyone goes through an awkward stage, but something tells me the man I’m currently straddling never went through such a thing. And I definitely did.

  He laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from my
face. His fingers tilt my chin up to meet his stare. “I did. You were fucking hot at sixteen.”

  Relief washes over me. Thank God. My high school years were good to me. I arch my brow playfully, licking the corner of my mouth as I make a mental note to burn all my middle school yearbooks. “Oh? Would you have liked sixteen-year-old, virginal, Dylan?”

  “I would’ve gone to jail if I touched you. But I definitely would’ve thought about it.”

  Christ, that’s crazy-hot to think about.

  I slide my hands along his bare chest, feeling his chiseled body tense against my palms. “Mmm. I would’ve thought about you touching me, too.” I glance up at him from underneath my lashes, seeing his green eyes blazing. “At night. When I was alone in my bedroom.” I lean in closer, pressing my lips to his ear. “I would’ve thought about it a lot,” I whisper.

  He growls, moving his hands underneath my tank top and rubbing along the skin of my back. “Would you have gotten yourself off thinking about me and what I’d do to you?”

  I nod against his cheek, grinding my hips into him. “Every night. I masturbated a lot back then. I was the horniest teenager.”

  “Shit,” he grunts, grabbing my hips and directing the tempo. I hear his breath hitch as he tilts his pelvis up, his length rubbing against me in the most delicious way possible. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to keep myself from you. I can’t now. I would’ve done anything to touch you. To taste you. Jail would’ve been worth it if I got to watch you come apart in my arms.”

  “Reese,” I moan, rocking my hips faster against him. “This feels… oh, God, this feels so good.” Who would’ve thought a little grinding with clothes on would feel this spectacular? Of course, the dirty-talking man underneath me doesn’t hurt.

  “I would’ve made you come like this. Rubbing my cock against you. Letting you feel how fucking hard I am for you.” His fingers unbutton my jeans and tug at the zipper. “Take these off. It’ll feel better.”