Free The Baker by Serena Yates Page B

better way for them to see each other more often. Ian seemed interested, from what he’d said on the phone during their almost nightly calls, but Cameron planned to make sure he actually was as keen as Cameron himself.
    So where the hell is he?
    Cameron pulled his phone from the pocket of his comfortable jeans for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening. Just before seven. And still no message.
    The sudden swipe of headlights crawling across the front window a few minutes later made Cameron jump. Sheesh, nervous much?
    After checking if it was Ian’s car pulling into the driveway—and who else would it be on a Friday night?—he managed to hold back from rushing to the front door for an entire three seconds before deciding to forget about decorum. He wanted to see Ian, hold him in his arms, and kiss him breathless. At this point he didn’t care if Ian knew.
    Cameron raced to the front door and opened it right when Ian got out of his car. The cold winter air hit Cameron in the face like an icy slap, but he didn’t care. Only the need not to display his enthusiasm openly, and giving the neighbors a show, stopped him from rushing out there and pulling Ian into his arms.
    Ian grinned and waved at him, then rounded the car and opened the trunk.
    Cameron came close to whining about the delay, but when Ian pulled a promising-looking box with the Bakehouse’s logo from the depths of his trunk, Cameron relaxed. Some things made a delay excusable. But Ian didn’t close the trunk and move closer to the house. Instead he stared at the back of his car, tension in every muscle visible to Cameron, and bit his lip as if trying to make up his mind about something. Then he looked up with hesitation in his eyes.
    Cameron had no idea what was going on, but he wanted Ian inside, the front door closed against the cold, and both of them safe from curious looks, in that order. So he nodded and crooked his fingers in a “come hither” gesture he hoped would answer whatever question Ian was pondering.
    Ian sagged in relief as a slow smile brightened his worried face. He pulled a duffel from the trunk— yes! —and proceeded to close and lock the vehicle before making his way over to the house.
    “Hi.” Ian’s smile had blossomed into its devastating full potential.
    “Hi, yourself.” Cameron couldn’t help but grin. “Come on inside.”
    Cameron had rarely stepped aside so quickly, and as soon as Ian’s feet had crossed the threshold, Cameron closed and locked the front door before stepping into Ian’s personal space and opening his arms.
    “Give me a second.” Ian sounded out of breath. “I’ve got precious cargo here.”
    Cameron grabbed the box and put it on the small table under the mirror, right next to the ceramic bowl that held his keys. There was only just enough space for the big box of goodies, but that was all he needed. When he turned back, Ian had dropped the duffel and was already crossing the three feet of distance that now separated them. Within seconds they embraced each other and pulled close enough for Cameron to feel exactly how excited Ian was to see him without the prying eyes of bakery customers watching them.
    Cameron tightened his left arm around Ian’s middle, slid his right hand up to cradle the back of Ian’s head, and bent to bridge the five inches separating them in height so he could kiss Ian’s full lips. This time neither of them hesitated. Cameron licked Ian’s lips, then pushed inside, and Ian sighed as he welcomed him, tongues sliding against each other as they reacquainted themselves with the feeling of being so close.
    After a while Ian tightened his arms around Cameron’s neck and began to grind his hips in a slow rhythm that made Cameron even hotter. It was as if they were slow dancing to a song in Ian’s head, but the only sound was their rapid breathing, the occasional moan, and the rustling of their clothes. Cameron closed his eyes for better focus and began to respond with