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When we reluctantly pull apart, Jake's gaze falls on the tools he brought to the bakery.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “What do you say we get started on those shelves? No more putting off until tomorrow what we can do today.”
I bite my lip, suddenly excited at the thought of watching Jake work. The idea of him shirtless and wearing only his tool belt slung low across his hips sends a thrill through my body.
“I like the sound of that,” I tease, a sly grin on my lips. “I’ve got a cake order to finish up. But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to get started on the shelves while I work.”
With that, he grabs his tools and sets to work, a smile never leaving his face.
As he does, I get lost in a fantasy, imagining him working on the shelves without his shirt.
I picture his muscular back flexing as he lifts the heavy wooden planks, his broad shoulders glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
Jake looks up at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, I see how it is. You want to ogle me while I work, right?”
“Can you blame me?” I counter, stepping closer and running my hands over his muscular chest. “I have the sexiest handyman in town all to myself. But I think you should take your shirt off first, you know, to avoid getting it dirty.”
Jake throws his head back and laughs, the sound filling the empty bakery. “You're going to be the death of me, woman. But I wouldn't have it any other way.”
Jake's eyes darken as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his toned chest.
As I pipe delicate rosettes onto the cake, my gaze keeps drifting to Jake, who is measuring the space for the new shelves.
His jeans hug his muscular thighs, and his hair falls across his forehead as he jots down numbers on a scrap of paper.
Sneaking another glance, I watch as Jake carefully aligns the plank, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He’s in his element, his movements sure and steady. He takes pride in his work, just as I do with baking.
I should focus on the cake, but I can’t tear my eyes away as sweat trickles down his broad chest. The droplets meet in the deep groove where his pectoral muscles meet.
As I think about licking the sweat from his flesh, heat builds between my legs, a wave of pure desire washing over me.
It’s incredibly distracting.
I force my attention back to the cake, but it’s a losing battle.
Jake suddenly looks up, catching me staring. I squeeze the piping bag a little too hard, and a glob of frosting lands on the counter.
Muttering under my breath, I grab a cloth and wipe it away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.
“See something you like?” he teases, his voice low and husky.
“Maybe,” I admit, setting down the piping bag. “It’s hard not to appreciate the view.”
“I could say the same about you,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over my flour-dusted apron. “You’re so beautiful.”
I blush under his intense gaze, feeling both vulnerable and empowered. I can’t believe how much power he has over me with just a few simple words.
My breath hitches in anticipation as he sets down his tools and strides toward me with purpose, backing me against the stainless steel counter.
“You have a little flour on your cheek,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my skin. His touch ignites a spark within me.
I lean into him, heart pounding. “Maybe you should help me get cleaned up.”
When he reaches out to brush the flour off my cheek, his touch sends shivers down my spine. His thumb grazes my skin, sending electrifying tingles over my body.
