Chapter 213
Before she could process what was happening, he lifted her hand and brought her thumb to his mouth.
He looked her dead in the eye.
He licked the frosting off.
It was slow. Deliberate. His tongue was warm against her skin. He drew the tip of her thumb briefly into his mouth, then released it.
The world seemed to narrow to that single point of contact. The professional kitchen — its cold steel, its bright lights — faded entirely away. All she could feel was the heat radiating from his touch, a current that traveled up her arm and settled somewhere deep and unsettling.
Jocelyn stopped breathing. Her knees turned to jelly. A jolt of electricity shot from her thumb straight through her.
“Delicious,” Gaston murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You — that’s unsanitary,” she squeaked, her voice a full octave higher than normal.
“We’re married,” he smirked, stepping closer until his chest bumped hers. “We share germs.”
J𝘰𝗶𝘯 𝘵𝗁o𝘶sa𝗻𝗱ѕ 𝗼𝗳 𝖿𝗮𝘯ѕ on 𝘨а𝘭ո𝗼𝗏el𝘀.со𝗺
Jocelyn pulled her hand back and cradled it against her chest like a wounded bird.
“I need to check inventory,” she blurted. “You finish the tasting. Decide for us.”
She turned and fled the kitchen, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The storage room was cool and quiet, smelling of clean linen and lavender detergent. Jocelyn leaned against a metal shelving unit and fanned her face with her hand.
Get it together, Jocelyn. It was just frosting.
“Hey. Hiding from the groom?”
Jocelyn startled. Carmen was standing in the aisle, clipboard in hand, counting stacks of towels.
“He’s… intense today,” Jocelyn admitted, her cheeks still burning.
“Intense is good,” Carmen sighed, marking something on her sheet. “Quentin is… boring.”
Jocelyn frowned. “Trouble in paradise?”
Carmen leaned against a stack of duvet covers. She looked tired. “Yesterday, he came home smelling like cheap perfume. He said it was from a hug with his aunt.”
“Oh, Carmen,” Jocelyn said gently. “Do you think he’s cheating?”
“I don’t know,” Carmen said, shaking her head and pressing her fingers to her temples. “Maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe I’m looking for reasons to be unhappy.”
Heavy footsteps approached the open door.
Justin Collins appeared in the doorway.
He filled the frame completely — the kind of presence that made a room feel smaller. He looked as though he owned the hotel, the storage room, and every cubic foot of air between them.
“Ladies,” he said. His voice was deep and unhurried. “I was told the inventory report is due by noon.”
His eyes weren’t on Jocelyn. They were fixed on Carmen.
The air in the room shifted immediately, thickening with a tension that felt quietly dangerous.
Carmen stiffened and drew the clipboard against her chest. “It’s not noon yet, Senator.”
Justin stepped into the room. “I told you to call me Justin.”
Justin glanced at Jocelyn. It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless.
“Give us a moment, Mrs. Collins,” he said.
Jocelyn looked from Justin to Carmen. Carmen looked like a deer caught in headlights.
.