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His future.
And as for being thorough? That hadn’t been bragging. That had been a promise.
“Stop!” Leah said suddenly, stilling his hand on the remote, and Da
“This?” he asked. “What the hell is this?”
“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’ve never seen Cake Boss.”
“What the fuck is Cake Boss?”
“Swear jar,” she said, taking the remote from him and turning up the volume. “It’s a reality show about a bakery in Hoboken.”
Da
“First of all, they don’t bake. They create,” she said, and Da
Da
“I will one day, when I have the time. It’s not like a normal bakery. It’s famous. People wait in line for hours just to get inside.”
“Huh,” Da
“The shit is that good,” she said confidently, and Da
“What if you go and it isn’t? Are you ready for that level of disappointment?”
Leah rested her head back on the pillow as she turned to look at him. “I don’t mind a little disappointment now and then. It just means you’ve got high standards. I’d rather shoot high and be disappointed sometimes than just live in the middle with the illusion of being satisfied.”
Da
She reached up then, placing her hand on his cheek as she ran her thumb over his forehead. “You’ve got a welt now,” she said softly.
He swallowed as a current of warmth trickled down his body, like a string of dominos that had been set off by the touch of her fingers.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth for just a moment before they flitted back up, and her hand slipped from his face as she sat up quickly. “Do you want more toast?” she asked, grabbing the empty plate between them and sliding off the bed.
“No, thank you,” he managed, and she nodded before she turned and headed out of his room.
Da
Jesus Christ, he wanted to kiss her again.
When they’d kissed outside The Rabbit Hole—a memory that still made his pulse spike whenever he thought of it—Leah had been drunk. And he was almost positive he had kissed her last night, but of course, he had been drunk.
He wanted to kiss her when they were both sober.
But he couldn’t take liberties like that, not while he still harbored secrets. Right now she needed to be the one calling the shots. She needed to set the tone, dictate the pace. He couldn’t risk screwing up right now. Not when he knew how badly he’d be screwing things up in the future.
Da
“Holy fuck,” he said just as Leah entered his room, and she turned her head, following his line of sight. As soon as her eyes fell on the screen, she smiled.
“Told you,” she said, coming back to the bed. “Amazing, right?”
“That’s a cake?” he said, and she nodded.
“Yup. And every part of that is edible.”
“No fucking way,” he said, staring in amazement at the life-sized roulette table, complete with a functioning wheel. “You can eat the numbers? And the chips?”
“They’re fondant,” she said, moving to lie down beside him. “It’s like a malleable frosting. You can make it any color you want, sculpt with it.” She rolled onto her side, facing him with a sigh. “I should have been a baker.”
He smiled as he turned toward her, lying on his side as he mirrored her position, and his eye was immediately drawn to the delicate silhouette of her profile—her neck curving into her shoulder, her waist tapering into the swell of her hip.
It was one of the most sensual things he’d ever seen.
Da
“I do,” he said. “I can’t believe I do, but I do.”
Leah lifted her brow. “You doubted me?”
“For the first and last time,” he said, and a slow smile curved her lips.
“That was a very diplomatic answer.”
“Thank you. I’m exceptional at taking my foot out of my mouth.”
She laughed softly before dropping her eyes, and he watched her expression straighten as she bit her lip. Then she moved, pressing him onto the mattress as she rested her head on his chest.
“Is this okay?” she whispered, draping her arm over his stomach, and Da
“Yes,” he said, trailing his fingertips from her waist to the nape of her neck.
“I know we did this earlier, but we weren’t in your bed then, and I don’t want to…I just want to…”
She trailed off, and Da
Leah exhaled softly. “It just…it feels nice.”
“It does,” he said gently, pulling her into his side, and the cha
“Show me sand the floor.”
Leah gasped just as Da
“Alright, Cake Boss is impressive, but it’s no match for The Karate Kid. We’re leaving this on,” he said.
“Totally,” she said emphatically as she tossed the remote behind her before snuggling closer. “This is one of the greatest movies of all time.”
Da
“Not at all,” Leah said, playing with the hem of his shirt as she kept her eyes on the TV. “When they did the remake of this with Jackie Chan, I took it personally.”
Da
“What?”
“That’s how they did it in the new one. Put your jacket on, take your jacket off. That’s how he learns to fight.”
“Oh my God, I hate it even more now,” Leah said against his chest, and he smiled, ru
They watched in captivated silence as Daniel-san realized all the chores he’d been forced to do had taught him how to defend himself, and as he stared at Mr. Miyagi in awe, Da
“There it is. Mind. Blown.”
“Right?” Leah said. “The first time I saw that scene, I’m not go
“Yeah, well, it was good to be Ralph Macchio in the eighties.”
“I was talking about Mr. Miyagi.”
Da
She fit so perfectly. And not just physically, although he couldn’t deny that when she was beside him this way, it felt like she was just a natural extension of his body, as if they were two halves of the same whole.
But it was more the way she fit into his life. In a perfect world, he could see this being his existence. Spending lazy weekends cuddling with her on the couch, watching TV and cracking jokes. Wasting hours talking about things that were ridiculous and significant and sometimes both at once.