6. Michael

MICHAEL

H e’s too fucking close.

My jaw flexes.

If he doesn’t back the fuck off, I’m going to ? —

A cracking sound reaches my ears, and I loosen my grip on the wooden spoon I’d absently picked up.

If you break it in half, the jagged edges could work well as a shiv.

I drop the spoon onto the judges’ table and stride down the aisle between the contestants’ stations. Toward the camera crew. Toward Alice.

These competitions started out fun. Then they got a little monotonous. And now, today, I’m experiencing a level of stress I never knew existed. It feels like anxiety, excitement, dread, doubt, and impatience all rolled into one.

It’s been so long since I’ve been anything other than completely sure of myself, and I don’t quite remember how to deal with it.

I want this woman. Correction, need this woman. And if the flush in her cheeks and sparkle in her eye is any indication, she wants me too. I just need to make her need me. Make her burn from the inside out, incinerating whatever walls she might have, and allow me access to every part of her being.

My heavy footfalls don’t go unnoticed, and I feel the other bakers watching me walk past.

Don’t fuck this up for her.

Reluctantly, I slow.

I need to listen to the small voice of my conscience, for once, and wait. I don’t know what Alice’s skill level is, but no one makes it on this show if they don’t deserve it. And if I make it obvious that I desire her, if I get her underneath me before the competition is done and ruin her chances of winning, or taint her win with rumors, I’d never forgive myself.

By the time I stop in front of her counter, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll treat her like any other contestant. I have to. Because with these cameras live streaming everything, there’s no editing. I can’t mess up. So, usual prick personality it is.

“Chef Mike.” Joey angles his body, giving me room to fit between him and Pamela. “Perfect timing. Alice here was just about to tell us what she’s making.”

Her wide green eyes meet mine, and, for a long second, I wonder if throwing her over my shoulder and walking out of here would really be that big of a deal.

She blinks at me, her hands stilling over the bowl of unmixed ingredients. “Are you ready?”

I clamp my teeth together, trapping a groan in my throat. Yeah, Baby Cakes, I’m fucking ready.

Joey chokes, then pats himself on the chest. “We’re ready, darling.”

I throw a glare at him before focusing back on the angel in front of me. If Joey thinks he can give her pet names and win her affections with his fake-ass charm, he’s gonna be thinking differently when I shove a whisk down his smarmy throat.

“Okay.” Alice licks her lips, and I feel myself leaning forward. “I’m making a red velvet, white chocolate swirl cake, topped with peppermint-vanilla cream cheese frosting.”

Joey rubs his stomach. “That sounds like a sugar rush!”

She smiles at Joey, and it makes me want to punch him in the face.

“It’s sweet.” Alice lifts one intriguing shoulder. “But I’m of the belief that desserts should be sweet. And I think the combination of flavors gives the palate enough to focus on without leaving time to worry about sugar.”

All heads turn to face me, waiting for my input. And I clasp my left wrist with my right hand and hold them in front of my groin. I’m sure I look disinterested, but I need to cover my growing cock before anyone notices.

“Sounds interesting.” I nod to Alice, then turn away. Forcing my focus onto anything else and away from the blood rushing to my dick.

Too sweet indeed.