Popping one in his mouth, Dare nodded. “So damn good,” he said around a bite. When he swallowed, he added, “I told Bunny she was officially my favorite person ever for making these again.”
Haven hugged herself and nodded, and something Bunny said came back to her—that it would make both her and Dare feel better to talk. What the heck was that supposed to mean? And why was Haven thinking of it now?
Dare placed the plate on the corner of his desk and grabbed another cookie. “And you’re my second-favorite person for bringing them to me,” he said with a wink. He took a bite.
Heat filled Haven’s cheeks, and she shook her head.
“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer. He ran his knuckles over her cheek, clearly noticing her blush.
“Um,” she said, fortifying herself with a deep breath to make her admission. She looked up at him, ready to tell him.
“I didn’t think I could like your hair more than I did before,” he said, stroking his fingers through it at the side of her face. “But you look beautiful, Haven.”
The words stole her breath and kicked her heart into a sprint. Did he just call her beautiful? “I do?”
He nodded. “Could barely keep my eyes off of you at breakfast. I know you noticed.”
And she’d thought her blush couldn’t get any hotter. She shrugged. “I guess so.”
He broke a piece off his cookie and handed it to her. “Want some?”
She let him put it in her mouth, her stomach fluttering because the look in his eyes suggested those words might not be about just the cookie. Although he could be so hard to read, and she wanted him so much she was always half sure she was projecting her desire onto him.
“Good, right?” he asked. His gaze ran down her face and stopped at her lips.
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing the last of the cookie. Now tell him. Right.
“Shit, I have to . . .” His hand threaded into her hair and grasped the back of her head. And then his mouth found hers and his tongue slid in deep, stroking, twirling, penetrating. She surrendered to the kiss and pressed her body against his, loving how big and hard and strong he was against her. His erection dug into her belly, and she loved that, too, the evidence that she wasn’t the only one feeling so out of control.
By the time he pulled back from the kiss, Haven was breathing hard and a little dizzy and totally aroused.
“Had to taste you with that flavor in your mouth,” he said in a gritty voice. “Just as good as I thought it’d be.”
His words did nothing to cool her off, but still she managed, “Dare, I have a confession.”
His expression darkened, and he tried to step back, to put that old distance between them again.
But Haven grabbed the lapel of his club cut. “Don’t go. Please.”
He glanced down to how she was holding on to him, and it took everything Haven had not to shy away from the intensity of his gaze. “What’s your confession?”
“I made the cookies,” she rushed out. “And the cinnamon buns.”
The darkness bled out of his eyes and off his face, only to be replaced by confusion. “You made the cookies? You’re the one who’s been making all the cookies and bars and buns?”
She nodded.
“You?” His eyebrow arched as he stared at her, and then his eyes went wide with what looked like surprise. “Jesus, Haven, you’re really fucking good at baking. You know that, right?”
She shrugged. “I like to do it.”
“You should be doing it. It’s your thing.” An arm around her waist, he reached for another cookie. Ate it. Closed his eyes and hummed as he chewed it. “So fucking good. And you made it.” He shook his head.
The whole thing made Haven smile. “So you’re not mad?”
His eyelids flipped open. “Why the hell would I be mad?”
God, she loved the feeling of his arm thrown so casually around her, her body still pressed all up against his. “Because I kept something from you again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about that, but why did you? Just out of curiosity.”
“I bake when I can’t sleep. It calms me, and I really enjoy it. But I didn’t want any attention for it, especially when I didn’t know any of you,” she said, looking down at his chest.
Fingers gently tipped her chin back up. “I get it,” he said, and then he was quiet for a long moment. Suddenly, he frowned and his brow furrowed. “I’m glad you told me. And, well, I have something to tell you, too. A confession of my own.”
“You do? About what?” she asked, unable to imagine what he could need to reveal to her.
Sighing, he stroked his fingers through the side of her hair again, his eyes tracking the movement. “So, the other day—”