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Thinking turns into talking.
Talking turns into temptation.
Temptation can only turn into Avery on her back with her legs on my shoulders, screaming my name.
Yes, it’s definitely for the best that she’s taking her time.
By the time she comes back to me, we are both more composed and in charge of ourselves again.
“The profiteroles on the top half of the croquembouche are filled with lavender and lemon creme pat. The ones on the bottom are orange and cardamom. I’ve worked with lavender before, but I’ve been waiting for an excuse to try including cardamom, and this seemed as good of a time as any. Hopefully, you like them.”
That shy smile makes me want to kiss her right then and there. Instead, I do the sensible thing and take a few profiteroles off both the top and bottom of the croquembouche.
The first one I try is the lemon and lavender. The pastry is decadently light and the filling is bursting with lemony flavor that is the perfect amount of tart. Then right when I think the lavender got overpowered, there it is right at the end of the bite.
I don’t think I’ve had anything this perfect before.
My mind is absolutely blown, so maybe that’s why I forget to think before I speak.
“Fuck, this might be better than sex.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret it.
“That was unforgivably inappropriate for me to say as your teacher. I’m sorry.”
I feel too guilty to meet her eyes, so I keep them fixed on the table. Even so, I can’t mistake the smile in her voice.
“It was definitely unconventional praise for a teacher to give, but I don’t mind a little unconventionality every now and then. Besides, I like it when you enjoy my taste.”
My head snaps up at that.
When our eyes meet, I can see her face is redder than a beet.
“Oh, shit. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I meant to say flavors. I mean the flavor combinations I try out, not, um, anything else.”
I’d believe that if her eyes hadn’t dropped down to fix on my mouth.
The last bit of self-control I have vanishes as all the blood in my body rushes to my dick. I close the distance between the two of us, placing a hand against the counter on either side of her.
“You know, I don’t think I believe you,” I say huskily. “I think you said precisely what you meant the first time.”
“We shouldn't be doing this,” she says, grabbing my shirt and pulling me closer.
“Shouldn't isn't the same thing as not wanting to. You want me to know exactly how you taste, don't you, Princess?”
“Yes.”
She squeaks when I pick her up and drop her on the counter.
I pause for a second to give her a way out if she wants it, but she wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer.
“You sure this is something you want? I don't want you to feel like?—”
She cuts me off with what might be the quickest peck on the lips I've ever had.
Taking that as a yes, I grab the back of her head and pull her to me.
When our lips meet, it's like a thousand volts of electricity are coursing through me.
