Sienna
I was watching him move ever so gracefully as he switched from chopping garlic to stirring the delicious smelling sauce.
Oakley refilled my wine with a smile and I took a sip, watching him over the rim of my glass. I was sitting at the island and wondering what I did to get so lucky.
It had been the best month of my life and I spent every second I could of it with him.
I was madly in love with this man. Our relationship was taboo and fast and messy but it was my heart that had been detained by him.
"How is that wine?" he asked.
"Almost as good as the view," I replied. He had looked scrumptious in dark jeans and a black Polo shirt. The sleeves had hugged his big round arms, making me all lightheaded and giddy.
There had been soft music playing and candles lit around the kitchen. My mind had started to go to dirty places, which had been all too familiar these days. When I had seen Oakley dip his fingertip in the sauce and then put it to his lips, I had been ready for more than just dinner.
We had been having so much sex that past week. It seemed like every time the officer had a piece of furniture delivered, we would be having sex on top of it a few minutes later. We couldn't stay off each other. We did it in every room in that house, in the pool, on every pool chair, and embarrassingly, even on every single window of the house.
"Let me show you something while this is cooking," he said as he stirred his sauce one last time. "Come with me."
My face blushed and my body started to heat up as I followed him to the stairs. I already felt the wetness pooling in my panties as I kept my eyes on his wide muscular back.
I was insatiable around that man. I couldn't get enough of him.
Disappointment hit me when he turned right at the top of the stairs instead of heading left toward his bedroom.
"This is for you, my little macaroon," he said as he opened the closed door.
"Oh, Oakley," I gasped when I saw what he set up for me. It was my very own bakery. It looked like he plucked it straight out of one of my Pinterest boards with the stunning white countertops and the expensive tools such as the mixer and the four-door oven.
"You can bake here from now on," he said as I walked in and looked around in awe. I couldn't believe it was
mine. It is perfect.
I was so touched. Words simply wasn't enough to thank him, so I dropped to my knees in front of him and grabbed onto his belt.