“Now,” he demands when we are both at the edge. “Now, Nikki, dammit, come with me.”
I arch back, a slave to his demands, and burst into a billion pieces even as he explodes inside me. He holds me tight, keeping me from getting lost in the ether and providing a tether to bring me back to myself.
I collapse against him, breathing hard, relishing the comfort of his arms, strong and safe, closing around me.
“Damien.” That’s all I can say, but it is enough.
“Yes,” he says, his voice so tender it brings tears to my eyes. “I know.”
Later, he carries me up to the house, because I am not at all convinced that I will ever have the power to walk on my own again.
I manage to stand for a shower, then dry off and settle back on the bed, naked, as Damien stays in the bathroom to shave.
I drift off, sated, only to be roused by his voice wafting over me. “Now, that is a very lovely view.”
I stretch and roll over, opening my eyes to find him naked in the doorway—and once again fully erect.
With a laugh, I prop myself up on an elbow. “You, Mr. Stark, are insatiable.”
“You make me insatiable,” he counters, coming to sit beside me on the bed. “I could spend the entire day here with you. Maybe the week, the month, the year.”
“I like it. Though we’d have to figure out how to eat.”
“Oh, I intend to eat my fill,” he says, nipping his way down my belly.
I squirm, delighted by his touch, and then I tense. I cock my head as something pokes at my memory. Something about eating … about sweetness …
About love.
I twine my fingers in his hair. “Wait—”
He lifts his head, one brow cocked.
I glance at the clock, see that it’s still early enough, and grin at my husband. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m cutting you off.”
“Oh?” His expression is vaguely amused. “And why is that?”
“I’ve nailed the first clue.” My tone is smug. I am certain that I’m right.
“Really?” He eases his way up my body until I am trapped beneath him. “Tell me.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
He kisses my neck. “Please?”
“Not a chance, buddy. At least not until you buy me a meal.”
“A meal?”
“Lunch,” I confirm. “In Beverly Hills. And after my meal,” I add with a wide, smug grin, “I want my dessert.”
We end up having a late lunch at one of the outdoor tables at 208 Rodeo, and we split an order of sweet potato fries and a burger while we do the people-watching thing, scoping out both tourists and locals as they stroll along Rodeo Drive or wander up the stairs to Via Rodeo. Not surprisingly, there’s a significant amount of reciprocal watching, and I catch sight of more than a few people taking surreptitious snaps of us with their phones. A few even stand boldly across the street and aim powerful zoom lenses in our direction, clicking furiously as they rattle off shot after shot.
Again, I don’t care.
It’s a gorgeous day. I’m with my husband on a Valentine’s Day scavenger hunt. And I’m still basking in the glow of some outstanding morning sex.
Seriously, life is good.
A perky waitress who looks like she’s ready to star in her own sitcom bounces to our table. “Can I get you some dessert?”
I meet Damien’s eyes. “Thanks,” I say. “But we’ve already got a plan for that.”
We settle the check, and then stroll the two short blocks to Love Bites, the exceptional bakery owned by Sally Love. She’s been featured on every food program known to man and has graced the pages of wedding and food magazines. She’s known Damien for years, and I adored her—and her cakes—from the moment I met her. And after just one bite of her dark chocolate and Kahlua cupcake, I knew that no one else could cater our wedding.
I’m convinced that what is sweeter than Love leads like an arrow to Sally Love and Love Bites. Valentine’s Day and love go together—and love leads to weddings. So how could the bakery that catered our wedding not be where the clue leads?
But though I might be certain, Damien, damn the man, has steadfastly refused to either confirm or deny.
Soon enough, though, I’ll know if I’m right.
I’d called Sally just seconds after my aha moment, and though the bakery is technically closed on Sundays, she said that she was on-site getting ready for a luncheon she’s catering tomorrow and invited me to stop by.
“Look at you two,” she says the moment she tugs open the glass doors to her sugar-scented shop. “The very picture of marital bliss.”
I simply grin and return her enthusiastic hug.
“Now, what’s this all about?”
“Apparently my wife has a craving for your cupcakes.”
“Does she?” Sally says, her brows rising. “I’m flattered, but what brought this on?”
I look between the two of them, suddenly unsure of myself. “Um, it’s just that nothing is sweeter than love, right? So that must mean your cupcakes.”
She points a finger at me. “Now there’s an excellent slogan for an ad campaign. Mind if I borrow it?”
I glance toward Damien. “You’ll have to ask him.”