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  A long moment passed during which we said nothing, but hell, what could I say? But then she started laughing, and that had a tingling starting in the base of my spine and encompassing my entire body.

  “Fruit ring?” she said between laughs. “You so didn’t say that, but we can go with that if it makes this less weird.” She was still laughing, wiping the tears from her eyes, her grin wide.

  I should’ve felt humiliated for making an ass out of myself, but instead I found myself laughing along with her.

  “What does ‘you’re mine’ mean anyway?” Her laughter was slowing, but her amusement was still clear.

  I sobered as I let her question linger in the air between us. Because I didn’t say anything, she sobered as well. No fucking way could I tell her what that really meant. She probably didn’t think I actually meant she was mine, because how fucking insane was it to say that to a woman you didn’t even know?

  So instead of saying anything, I just leaned against the counter and smiled, about to change the subject and hope like hell she went along with it and didn’t press.

  “What can I get for you?”

  She stared at me for a few moments, blinking rapidly, probably trying to process that I was totally avoiding her question. But after a second, she looked down at the pastry case and shrugged.

  “Well, I actually need some catering done for my company.”

  I heard what she said, but I was pretty mesmerized by the way her lips moved when she spoke, how she played with the edge of her shirt as if she were just as nervous as I was.

  For the next ten minutes, we talked about the catering she needed, and I was thankful for the reprieve, for the distraction from my wants and needs, which were all wrapped up in the gorgeous, luscious woman right in front of me.

  I handed her the order form, watching as she filled it out. I stared at her nails, the tips covered in this light teal shade. I was a filthy bastard for the things I thought, imagining those hands wrapped around my cock, stroking me up and down. Or her nails digging into my biceps, holding on as I slammed my dick hard and fast into her, making her take it all.

  I was pretty fucking proud of myself in that moment for keeping my shit together. I supposed it could have gone a hell of a lot worse.

  “Is there anything else you need from me? A deposit?”

  I swallowed, my throat thick as I thought about all the things I wanted to say. I’d rehearsed this about a million times, but I never had the balls to just be a man, be an alpha, and tell her that I wanted her as mine.

  And by saying she was mine, that meant a very simple thing—I’d be the only one to ever touch her, to be with her in every imaginable way.

  Maybe it was my subconscious, or maybe fate had done it for me, but those two words that spilled from me just moments before could not be taken back. And a part of me was glad, even though it was far too early to really delve into what they meant.

  Right?

  “I’m Max, by the way,” I said, although I was pretty sure she already knew my name.

  The smile she gave me was sweet, but it had my body doing wicked fucking things. My damn shaft was pressing against the zipper of my jeans, demanding to be free.

  “I know,” she said softly and looked away, as if she were too shy to admit that. “I’m Zara.” She looked back up at me. “Although you probably already know that from me filling out the paperwork just now.” Her cheeks were pink.

  She was blushing for me.

  I wondered what other parts of her body would blush.

  “I knew your name well before today.” Shit. That didn’t sound fucking creepy at all. “I just meant,” I stammered, “I notice your name when I ring you up. It’s on your credit card. Not that I’m actively looking. But you know….” I was rambling.

  I lifted my hand and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling like such a fucking idiot, a failure at how I was going about this. This sure as hell wasn’t how I saw it going.

  But now that everything had gone sideways thanks to my awkwardness, I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I’d done enough of that already.

  I was just going to come out and say it, ask her, and pray like hell she didn’t turn me down.

  Because the truth was, I didn’t know if I could walk away.

  No, I couldn’t, not when I knew she was the only one for me.

  Chapter Three

  Zara

  He kept staring at me, and although it made me feel a little put on the spot, heat and tingling feeling stole over my entire body. I liked Max staring at me, looking at me as if I was this tall glass of ice-cold water and he was dying of thirst.

  It was funny and also cute that he tried to pretend he hadn’t said “You’re mine.” And although I was trying to act like I wasn’t completely turned on, like hearing those two words hadn’t done something intense to my body, it was a lie.

  And ever since he said them, I’d been replaying them over and over in my head. Like a broken record.

  You are mine.

  You’re mine.

  I’m his.

  I’d wanted to hear those words from him for a long time now, and although I could play it off as it being a slip of the tongue, who accidentally said that to someone? His reaction told me that he was embarrassed he’d said them, and that I’d heard.

  But what did he actually mean by it? Did he mean it the way I hoped he did, that I was his irrevocably, that there’d never be anyone else for him?

  A girl could dream.

  He stared at me, and I looked right back at him. Max was tall and muscular, with a headful of dirty blond hair that was a little on the shaggy side, but not too long that I could really pull on it. Pull on it… like if we were in bed together and he was shoved deep inside my body.

  Oh my God, I was blushing again. I felt the heat move over my neck and face.

  I sounded—felt—like some kind a nymphomaniac. I didn’t even know the first thing about sex. Well, not up close and personal. Being a virgin at my age seemed kind of ridiculous. Did guys even desire virgins, or was it like some awkward thing where they thought we’d cling to them forever because they’d been “the one”?

  And if he ever found that out, would it turn him off?

  I was severely overthinking this.

  I was so focused on working, on top of the insecurities I’d felt when I was younger, that sex just hadn’t been a priority for me. I had to love myself before I gave myself to anyone else.

  That had been my motto, and it had done me well, up until I met Max. He shook everything around for me, and it had just taken one look. I couldn’t even explain this intense attraction I felt for him, but it had been so strong, never ending, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget about it or push it to the side.

  I didn’t want to.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Max.” God, I felt so stupid in this moment, like a child. The smile he gave me was a little bit crooked, and totally endearing.

  He flashed straight, white teeth and leaned against the counter of the pastry case. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at his forearms, couldn’t help but get flushed at how masculine they were, tanned and thick, a little bit veiny, and totally muscular.

  I’d always been a forearm kind of girl, and Max had ones that could make a girl blush.

  “It is really nice to officially meet you, Zara.”

  I loved the way he said my name, slow and deliberate, as if he were playing every letter across his lips and tongue, savoring them. I’d never loved my name more than when I heard Max say it.

  I clenched my thighs together, my panties becoming uncomfortably damp. God, was I seriously aroused standing in front of him? This couldn’t be normal. “Well, thank you for your help with... all of this,” I said and gestured toward the order form.

  Of course I would come in again before the catering was done. No way I could stay away. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and smiled, looking at his eyes, getting lost in the deep denim color.

&nb
sp; “Thanks again,” I added and swallowed roughly. He had yet to say anything, but he was staring, as if consumed with the sight of me. That was the only word that would accurately describe the way Max watched me.

  I turned and started toward the door, feeling his gaze trained right on me, which in turn made every step I took deliberate so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. When I reached out to grab the handle, about to pull it open, I heard him clear his throat.

  I’d hoped he’d stop me.

  “Zara?”

  With my hand still on the handle, I looked over my shoulder. I watched as he walked out from behind the counter, and for a moment I was struck by how tall he was. Maybe it was an optical illusion with the display case in front of him, but I hadn’t realized he was well over six foot. And even with me being five foot seven, not really on the short stature side, I felt like a pixie compared to him.

  I tipped my head back and looked into his face, and the closer he got, the scent of him washed through me even stronger. He smelled like cologne, but there was also a mix of vanilla and honey. It was sweet but masculine and had every part of me tingling.

  “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’ve been meaning to ask you out.”

  I felt my eyes widen. He’d been meaning to ask me out? “You have?” Even I heard the shock in my voice despite the fact that I tried to stop it, tried to act like I had my shit together. Which I didn’t when I was around him.

  “So, what do you say?” He gave me that crooked grin again and I nearly melted into the floor. I must have stayed quiet for too long, because he started to shift on his feet. “I swear I’m not normally this awkward.”

  I couldn’t help but smile then. Nervous Max was extra cute. “I’d like that,” I said probably a little too fast.

  “Yeah?” His grin was wide and infectious.

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  Chapter Four

  Zara

  Date night

  Was I really doing this? Getting primped and prepped for a first date, acting like I was going to lose my virginity or something?

  I snorted.

  As I ran the razor over my leg, making sure everything was nice and smooth, everything trimmed and looking good, in the back of my mind, I thought things could possibly go all the way tonight. Because although this was the first date, I felt like I’d known Max for longer than that, like we’d been intimate many times already.

  It was insane, because I’d never felt this way before about a man. Technically, although I’d seen him a couple times a week for months, I didn’t really know Max. But that was about to change.

  I finished up shaving, trimmed down there, and got out of the bath. After drying off, slipping on the dress I’d decided to wear, and putting on my heels, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked at my breasts, the girls looking extra perky tonight, the outfit having a low cut that showed off my cleavage. I had to admit that my tits were probably one of my best assets.

  In fact, I felt pretty damn sexy right about now, with the outline of my nipples evident and so much skin being shown. I looked at my hair, piled up for when I had taken a bath, wisps of strands curling along the back of my neck. After some crafty maneuvering, placement, and a little bit of straightening here and there, I had what looked like a fancy chignon, but really it was a haphazard bun that I’d worked into something a little bit more classic.

  I looked pretty damn good.

  I smoothed my hands down my curves, my waist a bit tucked in, my hips a little wide. It felt good to love myself and the skin I was in, the things society would call imperfections.

  And after putting a little bit of makeup on, some gloss that made my mouth look extra pouty, and spritzing on some perfume, I figured I was as ready to go as I was going to get.

  Max asked if he could pick me up, but I wasn’t one of those women who cared about men holding the door open for her, or pulling out her chair. I was independent. I wouldn’t be where I was in life if I didn’t like to take charge of my own things.

  So I told him I’d just meet him at his place. In fact, I liked the night he had planned. It was low-key and intimate without being weird for a first date. I thought so, at least. And when Max suggested it, it put a perpetual smile on my face.

  He was cooking me dinner at his place, and then he said he wanted to bake something with me, as in actually bake dessert together. I wasn’t a cook or a baker... not even a damn candlestick maker. I snorted and shook my head.

  I liked the fact that he wanted to include me, that he wanted to make this personal and memorable. He was ticking all those winning boxes already.

  I smiled at myself in the mirror. “Here’s to unexpected situations that turn out to be perfect.”

  * * *

  Max

  I leaned back in my chair, my focus on Zara. Of course I’d been staring at her all night and at some point assumed she’d call me out on it, seeing as I wasn’t even trying to hide it.

  She flicked her gaze up at me. “That was incredible,” she said softly, and I watched as her cheeks turned pink. “I’m not just saying this, but I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fantastic meal.”

  Now it was my turn to feel put on the spot. I was never really the blushing type, but leave it to Zara to put me in that category pretty damn fast.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. That was my only goal for this evening.” And just like that, her blush deepened. “Can I be honest and admit I really love how you react to me?”

  She moved a little wisp of hair away from her face and glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t.” Then she glanced up. “I’m not used to hearing people say such nice things to me.”

  I was shocked by her admission. “Well then, everyone is blind and an idiot.”

  She chuckled softly.

  “Would I make you even more uncomfortable if I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Although I had already told her that as soon as I saw her, as soon as I opened the door and she took my breath away, I really did love watching her cheeks turn pink. Her reaction to me made me feel masculine, letting me know she was right here in this moment with me.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly and glanced away. I could see the flush steal over her neck and travel down to the top of her chest, creeping along the generous mounds of her breasts.

  God, my mouth watered for a taste of her, to see if her entire body got pink. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, my pants starting to get tight and uncomfortable as my cock hardened.

  She cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to mine. “I don’t know if I’m hungry for dessert, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to help bake whatever you have planned.”

  I felt myself grin. Nothing better than hearing your girl say she was excited to do something with you.

  And yeah, I’d already claimed Zara as my girl.

  Chapter Five

  Zara

  When I heard we’d be baking, I thought maybe brownies or cookies, not from-scratch strawberry shortcake and homemade whipped cream. And to be honest, I felt like I was in the way more than I was helping.

  Max glanced up at me and grinned. “I hope this isn’t overwhelming.”

  I gave an awkward laugh and wiped my flour-covered hands on the apron he’d given me to wear.

  “You’re doing great.”

  I smiled, because I couldn’t help it. The way he looked at me, the way he made me feel, had this infectious happiness filling me. “I suck at baking, and cooking, and actually anything that requires me in a kitchen.”

  He wiped his hands on the rag he had slung over his shoulder and grinned even wider. “I think you’re doing pretty damn good. But you have to admit—this is a little bit fun, right?”

  I laughed softly. “Maybe just a little.” He gave me a wink and I felt my cheeks heat. God, as soon as I’d stepped through his front door, I felt like t
hat’s all I’d been doing—blushing.

  A moment of silence stretched between us as he watched me. “Come here, Zara.”

  Instantly, I felt my pulse race at his gentle, deep command. I walked around the breakfast island and now stood just a few feet from him, looking down at the bowl of cream, the beaters next to that, and a small cup of sugar.

  The smell of the shortcake baking filled the kitchen with a sweet, vanilla scent. “We’re going to make homemade whipped cream for the shortcake.” He turned, opened the fridge, and grabbed another bowl full of fresh strawberries.

  Once that was sitting on the counter, he started adding a little bit of sugar to the cream, one teaspoon at a time.

  “I’m going to have you mix the cream until it becomes thick, with stiff peaks.”

  I nodded and grabbed the mixer, turning it on low and focusing on not spraying cream everywhere. I could feel Max staring at me, and when I lifted my gaze to his, I got confirmation. He gave me a small smile, and despite the fact that the loud noise from the mixer filled the kitchen, that I probably had flour on my face, this moment felt pretty intimate.

  My heart was still racing, and I didn’t expect it to lessen anytime soon. I didn’t know what it was about him that had me so on edge, but it wasn’t in a bad way. It was in the way that made me feel like I was on this tight wire and he was waiting for me at the bottom, waiting to catch me.

  I focused on the cream, thinking I might melt into a puddle by being so close to Max.

  “That’s good, Zara,” he said with a slightly raised voice so I could hear him over the metal beaters hitting the bowl.

  I turned off the mixer and stood it up so the beaters hung over the bowl, whipped cream stuck around them. He dipped his finger and scooped up a dollop of it, holding it up to my mouth.

  For a moment, I just stood there, not sure exactly what he wanted me to do.