Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Page 5

  I picture her lips forming my name as I stroke my cock faster and faster, the pre-cum dripping from the tip as a series of images flashes in my head like a movie reel.

  Lily's face as she comes, her pussy tightening around my fingers as I stroke her.

  Lily naked, stretched across one of the tables in the bakery, her hands gripping my hair as she holds my head tightly against her pussy. I pull her clit into my mouth, sucking her until she's whimpering my name over and over like some kind of mantra.

  Lily against the wall, her legs wrapped around my waist as I plunge my cock inside her over and over.

  "Tell me you love it," I order. "Tell me you love feeling me bare inside you. Tell me you want me to fill you up with my cum."

  She moans her response. "Do it," she says. "Please."

  It's the word "please" that makes me come. I groan loudly as I finish, imagining myself coming inside her.

  When I pry open my eyes, adrenaline still flows through my body and my cock is still hard. This girl is going to be the death of me. I feel like I'm a horny teenage boy with the biggest case of blue balls the world has ever seen.

  The right thing to do – the sensible thing – would be to stay the hell away from the girl who owns the bakery, the one with the chip on her shoulder that tells me she's been hurt before. The girl who has a kid and probably a shitload of baggage.

  That's what I should do.

  Fuck it. I've never been sensible anyway.

  Lily is staring at me like I've got three eyes, that same look on her face that she seems to get a lot around me. It's the one where her cheeks are lightly flushed and she's glaring at me like her head is about to explode.

  I stayed out of the bakery the past two days. I tried to be logical, I really did. Then I came in this morning and Opal was struggling to keep up with the customers. I couldn't watch while she tried to manage shit on her own. It wasn't right. So I jumped in to help her out.

  At the register, Opal leans toward me. "Sugar, would you be a doll and box me up three vanilla cupcakes with raspberry frosting and "

  "Two of the chocolate almond mocha cupcakes, three of the lemon meringue cupcakes, and a bagel with cream cheese, not boxed with the cupcakes," a customer says.

  "Mornin', sunshine," I whisper as Lily passes by me behind the counter.

  She puts a coffee cup on the counter. "What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice excessively polite. But her nostrils flare.

  "Working," I say, sliding open the door to the display case.

  "What do you mean, 'working'?"

  "Opal hired me." I reach a gloved hand for the lemon meringue cupcakes. How many were there again?

  "She said lemon meringue," Lily points out. "Those are lemon-frosted."

  "How many kinds of lemon cupcakes do you have?" I grumble, placing three in the container.

  Lily ignores me. "Hand me the cupcake box."

  "I don't think so.” I stand up.

  The woman waiting for the cupcakes giggles. "I'll say them one at a time," she says, her voice sugar sweet. Shit, she's practically batting her eyes at me. "I shouldn't have said everything at once and confused you."

  Beside me, Lily clears her throat. "I'll be happy to take over.”

  "Oh no. I think he has it handled. Besides, a man giving me cupcakes is the best start to a morning I've had in a long time."

  I look at Lily smugly and she rolls her eyes in response. "Three mocha almond?" I ask.

  "Yes.” The customer giggles again. The constant giggling makes her sound like an airheaded bimbo, but I don't tell her that. Mentally I congratulate myself on my excellent self-control. It's been almost two hours that I've been working in a fucking coffee shop with actual customers - actual real-life people - and I haven't cursed a single one of them out. Really, my restraint should be commended. I practically deserve an employee-of-the-year award already. In fact, I should probably make that suggestion to Lily.

  I finish filling the cupcake box and wordlessly hand it to the giggling blonde, who stands on her tiptoes to lean in over the top of the display case. "Are you going to be working here every morning?"

  "No. Unfortunately, he's helping out temporarily," Lily interrupts. "Just for today."

  There's an unmistakable edge to her voice that's more than just irritation at discovering me behind the front counter. Is she jealous of the blonde?

  "She's incorrect," I tell the blonde. "It's not temporary."

  "Oh, good. Then I'll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow."

  "Opal, do you have these customers all set?" Lily asks, her voice excessively polite.

  "Go on.” Opal waves her off. "But before you get your knickers in a twist, just know that Killian has been very helpful this morning."

  Lily grunts. "I'm sure." She gestures at me to follow her to the kitchen, her nostrils doing that flaring thing again.

  "This is the second time you've dragged me back here," I note once we're back in the kitchen. "If you wanted to be alone with me so badly, you could have just asked."

  "I do not want alone time with you," Lily protests, her eyes wide. "Why are you behind the counter in my store?"

  "Working.” I shrug. I cross my arms as I look at her. "You've got a 'help wanted' sign hanging in the window."

  "You are not help."

  "Well, now, that's just rude."

  "You know what I mean. You're not in the market for a job making coffee and handling cupcakes."

  I can't hide the smile that tugs at the edges of my lips. "I was hoping to handle one particular cupcake."

  I didn't think it was possible for her eyes to fly open wider, but they do. "There's not going to be any handling of anything," she says. But she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

  "Opal thinks I'm a terrific fit for this place," I point out.

  Lily's eyes narrow. "Opal doesn't have hiring authority. And you are not a good fit for this place."

  "Because I'm a man?" I ask. "That's just flat-out discrimination."

  Lily groans in exasperation. I wonder if that's just her thing, or if she does it only around me. "Because you're a huge hulk of a man who looks like a lumberjack."

  "Hunk," I correct.

  "What?" My interruption stops her tirade, and she pushes away the errant strand of hair that flops out of her ponytail into her face. That ponytail. It makes me want to pull it. My dick twitches, pressing against the zipper of my jeans at the mere thought of my hand gripping her hair as she rides me.

  "You said hulk but you really meant hunk.”

  "I definitely meant hulk. That apron looks ridiculous on you and you are not the kind of person who does well with people."

  "Maybe I like people," I lie. That's the furthest fucking thing from the truth. Except for my brothers, I have no interest in interacting with the citizens of West Bend. Solitude is just fine with me. It's just that this girl makes me crazy. I have this irresistible urge to push her buttons. And hell, being up at the cabin alone has been boring lately.

  She laughs under her breath. "You hate people."

  "You don't know that."

  She cocks her head to the side. "Oh, please. It's written all over you. The last thing I need is you scaring off my customers."

  I step closer to her, and she doesn't back away. She looks up at me, her face defiant. Fuck, I want to put my mouth on hers again. When I kissed her before, she tasted like strawberries and summer and frosting and – now I can't stop thinking about frosting her naked body.

  "I promise I won't even scare off your customers. Only the asshole ones."

  "See?" she squeaks. "You're doing it again. I don't even know you and you seem to have made it your mission to get involved in my store out of some misguided notion that you're protecting me."

  "Wrong." I step closer to her. She's standing against the counter now, the metal edge pressing into her ass.

  "Wrong about what?" She looks up at me. Her voice is softer, and when she runs her tongue along her lower lip, I have t
he nearly irresistible urge to bite that lip.

  "You're wrong about why I'm here."

  "Why are you here, then?"

  "Because I want you in my bed. And on this counter. And up against the wall."

  She inhales deeply, her breasts rising under her apron. For a second, I think she moves closer to me, like she wants me to kiss her. "You're barking up the wrong tree, caveman."

  I raise my eyebrow. "You're not into men?"

  A look of confusion flutters across her face, and then she sets her jaw. "Of course that's what you think."

  "You're the one who said I was barking up the wrong tree." I shrug. There isn't any part of me that thinks Lily isn't into men, not with the way she looks at me like she's daring me to touch her.

  "So that must mean I'm into women?"

  "You tell me."

  "Are you asking your employer about her sexual preference or her sex life?" she asks. "Because that would be so far beyond inappropriate that I'd have to fire you."

  "You're saying you've hired me?"

  "I didn't say that," she blurts out.

  "You did say just you were my employer," I point out helpfully.

  "I was speaking in theoretical terms."

  "Careful. This caveman doesn't understand big words."

  She narrows her eyes at me. "You're juvenile."

  I lean in close to her, my lips near her ear the way they were the other day. "Good thing you're not my employer, then. Because it would be really inappropriate if I were to tell you that I can't stop thinking about how much I'd like taste you. Or how much I'd like to feel you on my tongue."

  She inhales sharply, so sharply that I can hear her breath, and the sound makes me hard. I pull away and she looks at me for a long minute without speaking. Honestly, I can't decide if she's going to slap me across the face or not. She should slap me across the face; I totally deserve it.

  "That is never going to happen."

  She steps away from the counter – and away from me. She doesn't say anything else until she reaches the door to the front of the store. Then she looks back over her shoulder. "And for your information, I said you were barking up the wrong tree because I have a kid. She's seven years old. So I'm not the Jane to your Tarzan. And I'm definitely not a hook-up. So think about that before you decide whether you really want to keep up with this silly employee thing.”

  9

  Lily

  I storm out of the kitchen, my heart still pounding in my chest. I don’t know what it is about that guy, but I find him equal parts irresistibly sexy and totally repellant.

  The breakfast crowd is gone now, leaving the store quiet. This is usually the time when I go into the kitchen to bake, but I definitely can’t be in the same room with Killian. When he backed me up against the counter just then, I could hardly breathe. My heart raced, beating a million times a minute in my chest, and I swear every brain cell in my head went to mush.

  If Killian had kissed me then, I wouldn’t have stopped him.

  And kissing someone like him – rugged and rough around the edges and pushy and obnoxious – wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, with the way I just blew him off, it’s a matter of seconds before he waltzes out here and quits this whole employee nonsense.

  “Everything work out okay?” Opal asks nonchalantly, but with Opal, nothing is casual. I’ve learned that about her. There’s always something beneath the surface of her innocent questions.

  “Fine,” I say, my voice clipped. "You did not hire that man, did you?"

  Opal raises an eyebrow. "It was a busy morning and that man was kind enough to step in and give me a hand. And if you ask me, you need him."

  “I certainly do not need that ”

  "That extraordinarily handsome man distracting customers in your coffee shop?" Killian's voice, low and deep behind me, sends goose bumps down my arms.

  "Lily was just telling me how much she appreciated your help this morning," Opal says.

  "Fine," I admit. "It was nice to have an extra pair of hands here."

  "Then I accept," Killian says.

  "You accept what?"

  "Your offer of employment."

  "I didn't make an offer of employment. There's a 'help wanted' sign still in the window for a reason."

  "She has a terrible time accepting help," Killian says to Opal.

  "Child, you have no idea," Opal replies.

  "Traitor." I mutter the word under my breath.

  "Let me show you how to make some of the coffee drinks while Lily bakes. Remember, Lily, you have the cake for the Rogers girl's birthday."

  I groan, momentarily distracted by the birthday cake. Aster Rogers is a brat who's changed her mind three times about her birthday cake . . . after I made them. They're all "test runs" on birthday cakes before the eight-year-old's birthday party, at her mother's insistence. I should be happy they keep reordering cakes, since they’re paying me, but there’s just something about the spoiled girl’s insistence that she wants something different each time that bugs me.

  "Let's get started, ma'am." Killian winks as he steps around me.

  "Oh, sugar, don't ma'am me," Opal chides him. "Makes me feel old. Unless you think I look old. You aren't saying that, are you?"

  Killian chuckles. "You don't look a day over twenty-five, Opal."

  "I knew this one was a keeper the moment I laid eyes on him," Opal declares.

  "Wait a second," I interrupt, my voice hushed because there are still two customers in the store. "I did not say I was hiring Mr. –"

  "Saint," Killian says.

  "That is not your name," I say. Is he just screwing with me? He's as far from saintly as a person can get.

  "Killian Saint." His eyes crinkle at the edges. "Fits, doesn't it?"

  I don't respond to that, because the last thing I need to be thinking about is how un-saintly he is. "I did not say I was hiring you, Mr. Saint. In fact, I think we discussed the fact that a job in a bakery isn't really what you're looking for."

  "Oh, no." Killian looks at me meaningfully. "It's exactly what I'm looking for."

  "I vote yes on hiring Killian," Opal says.

  Killian raises his hand. "That makes two of us."

  "It's a win," Opal decrees.

  "This isn't a democracy," I point out.

  Opal gives me a stern look. “I wasn’t aware it was a fascist dictatorship, either."

  I don’t disguise my groan. Opal is the closest thing I have to a friend in this town, and she’s turning against me. “I don’t know why you’d want to work here."

  Killian looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching. I half-expect him to say something inappropriate right here in the front of the store, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs. “I’m bored.”

  “It doesn’t pay much."

  “I work for free."

  “You work for free.” I repeat the words flatly. Is he just trying to out-stubborn me? Or is he really going to keep this up just because he thinks he has a shot at getting in my pants? Well, two can play at that game. If he's that stubborn that he wants to work for free, I can call his bluff.

  “I don’t need the money,” Killian explains.

  “So you’re an independently wealthy mountain man, then?”

  “Well, I’m no billionaire.” He pauses for a beat. “I don't have a red room either."

  Did the bearded, gruff, brute of a man just reference an erotic romance novel? I open my mouth to respond, but Opal interrupts before I can. “Go work on the cakes, honey,” she says. “You can get ahead and not be scrambling at the last minute to get Chloe. We’re all set with training.”

  Opal opens the refrigerated case and begins pulling cupcakes out to show Killian the different kinds. “Now we always keep the basic cupcakes every day, but the special flavors rotate, depending on what Lily comes up with.”

  I walk to the kitchen, shaking my head. I can't believe I just let them talk me into hiring Killian Saint.

  The rationalizing part of me kicks
into overdrive. It would be nice to have an extra pair of hands around here. And having Killian work here couldn't possibly be worse than the previous front-counter girl, whose work ethic was questionable at best. I’ll just have to keep my libido under control.

  I don’t hear a peep out of Killian or Opal for the next few hours, and I lose myself in baking, mixing the special batches of cupcakes for tomorrow and applying the fondant to my sculpted cake. The Rogers kid wants a mermaid this time – a fully-sculpted three-dimensional mermaid – on top of a cake that’s decorated to look like the ocean, complete with ocean creatures. That’s after the cakes that she already rejected a blue leopard-printed and bejeweled tier cake, and a three-dimensional ballerina cake made to look like a leotard and tutu.

  “I didn’t realize when you said you baked cakes that you were really talking about sculpture." Killian stands just inside the swinging door to the kitchen.

  “They are like sculptures,” I agree.

  “So all of this is cake?” Killian asks. When he walks around to my side of the workspace, my heart skips a beat, all too aware of his proximity to me. Why does he have to smell so damn good? His smell – a hundred percent masculine contrasts with the overly sugar-sweet smells in the kitchen.

  “Not quite. The mermaid is made mostly of marshmallow rice treats and modeling chocolate. She has a PVC pipe frame underneath all of that so the whole thing doesn’t collapse.”

  “Well, fuck.” Killian bends over to examine the cake more closely.

  Hearing this man speak that word sends heat racing through my body, and I clear my throat. Killian doesn’t seem to notice, though. He just stands there, scrutinizing. “It’s not done yet,” I say lamely.

  Of course it’s not done yet, Lily. It’s obvious that it’s not finished. Why do I sound like such an idiot around this guy?

  “What do you do next?” Killian asks. He genuinely sounds interested.

  “I’ll freeze it tonight, and then tomorrow morning, I'll finish the mermaid and paint details on the ocean and add the sea creatures."

  "So you’re going to make everything yourself?” Killian asks.

  “Well, I’ve made some of it already. Here, I’ll show you.” I walk to the freezer and take out a tray that holds little three-dimensional coral pieces and fish that I’ve already decorated.