A Pizza My Heart Read online

  Turning the knob, I shut off the all-too-comfortable shower and step out, drying off with the fresh towel hanging beside the stall. Noticing that my button-down is missing, I toss on whatever clothes from yesterday I can find—pulling a Wren and ditching the underwear—and utilize the spare toothbrush she has.

  When I turn the corner into the kitchen, I’m greeted by the view of Wren standing at the stove in only her panties and wearing the button-down I wore just for her yesterday.

  It’s officially my favorite view of all time, and I’ve seen the Grand Canyon twice.

  “Sit.” She points to the table. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  I pad over to the chair I made her mine on last night, and my dick goes rock hard in a matter of seconds.

  “What’s wrong?” she questions when she realizes I haven’t taken a seat yet.

  “I was just thinking…” I point to the chair. “I fucked you here last night.”

  She gulps, spoon mid-stir of whatever it is she’s making. “You did.”

  “I want to do it again.”

  “Oh no you don’t, mister. You are not ruining another meal.”

  I grin. “But we had so much fun ruining it last night. We should do that again.”

  “Not happening. The kitchen is for cooking, not fucking.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “Fine.”

  She narrows her eyes at me, studying me hard.

  Eggs. Bacon. Toast.

  Crap. Maybe I should eat…Wren.

  I charge at her the second she turns her back, sweeping her into my arms in a fireman’s carry. I flip the burner off and head toward the back door.

  “What the—Foster!” She beats at my back. “Where are you taking me? Put me down!”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “No,” I repeat.

  “Where are you taking me? At least tell me that.”

  “Your salon.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Mirrors, Wren.” I thump her on the ass. “And I’m fairly certain those chairs spin 360 degrees. I can find a lot of things to do with mirrors and three hundred sixty degrees at my disposal.”

  Slice Nineteen

  Wren

  “In all those fantasies of yours, did you ever think about us doing it at Slice?”

  The water Foster just took a sip of dribbles down his chin.

  He wipes the mess away, eyes round. “What the fuck, Daniels? You can’t say shit like that while I’m taking a drink.”

  “Sorry. What’s your preferred time for me to ask you about your sexual fantasies?”

  “How about—” He shakes his head, clamping his lips together. “Nope. No. I was going to smart off and say never, but that would be a lie because you can ask me about those at any time.” He twists two fingers together. “Hopefully that means you’re thinking of them too and we can continue checking things off the list.”

  “A list? There’s a whole list?”

  “More like a book, one with at least twenty chapters.”

  “You are a twisted, horny individual.” I smirk. “I like it.”

  He shakes his head. “So naughty.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He turns his head left then right, looking around for I don’t know what.

  Foster pushes up from the stool he’s been occupying for the last ten minutes, grabs my hand, and rushes me behind the bar and down the long, narrow hall.

  He wrenches open the supply closet and tucks us both inside.

  Before I can question him, he smashes his lips to mine, sucking all the air from my lungs in a searing kiss.

  Will it always be this way? Will kissing him always make me feel like my lungs are on fire? Like my legs can’t remember how to walk? Like my entire world is spinning backward?

  Because I could get used to this.

  He traces his lips over mine, hips rolling into me as he presses me against one of the wire racks filling the room.

  “This room.” Another kiss. “It’s dark, secluded.” Kiss. “But used enough that we could get caught at any moment.”

  “You want to do it during the day? While customers are here?”

  He moans against my neck as he trails kisses down it. I push my hands into his hair, loving the way the soft curls feel between my digits.

  “Yes. During a shift, more specifically. You’d be rushing across the floor, frazzled and needing an outlet. I’d make some shitty excuse and take you down the hallway, pull you into this room, and have my way with you.”

  I pant as his hands begin to find their way beneath my suddenly untucked shirt.

  “You’d lose customers, probably. Get stiffed on a tip or two.” He palms my breast. “That’s okay, though, because you’d be getting a whole different kind of stiffing in here.”

  I laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

  “But you love me.”

  He pauses.

  Just for a moment.

  I hear the hitch in his breath.

  The waiting.

  The wanting.

  “Foster?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I touch you?”

  “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

  I drop to my knees, taking that as a yes.

  He rests his head against the wire rack, our eyes locking as I work the button and zipper of his jeans. I push the rough material down his legs just enough to give me access then finger the band of his underwear.

  “Undies—boring. Cockblockers.”

  Lightly tracing two fingers across my jaw, he chuckles. “Suck me or let me fuck you, Wren. Your choice, but make it quick before I do.”

  I pull the barrier between us down, freeing his hard cock. My core tightens when I see how swollen and achy he is.

  He wants this. Bad.

  I wrap my fist around the base of his length and drag my tongue along the underside, making sure to pay extra attention to the sensitive spot under the head.

  He mutters something I can’t quite make out and I grin, loving the sounds he’s making from such a simple touch.

  His eyes are squeezed tightly together, lips tucked safely between his teeth.

  I watch him as I work him into my mouth, surprised when his eyes pop open and he watches me take in as much as I can.

  “Fucking heaven…” he whispers, fingers tracing along my jaw again. “Your mouth is fucking heaven.”

  He works his hand through my hair, grabbing my head and guiding me over his cock, pushing me farther down his length with each pass.

  “You can take me, Wren. Just relax.”

  I do, forcing the air through my nose and opening my throat.

  I swallow around the head of his dick and feel him brace himself against the rack.

  “Do that again and I’ll shoot right down your throat.”

  So I do.

  And he does.

  Wave after wave of pleasure jerks through him, the shelf behind us shaking with his harsh movements.

  I swallow him, hating the taste but doing it because I don’t have any other option right now.

  I give his softening cock one last kiss before rising to my feet.

  “Next time,” I say in his ear, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

  With a satisfied grin, I slide past him and make my exit.

  I pause in the hallway, tucking my shirt back into my jeans and righting my apron.

  I head back to the main floor and nearly faint when I run straight into my father.

  He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hard.

  He doesn’t say anything, and my heart drops.

  “You can’t just walk away after that, Birdie. You had my—oh. Simon. Uh, hey man.”

  “Hey man? Hey man? Really, Foster?”

  “Uh…hey sir?”

  My dad shakes his head. “Look, I know you’re young and in love and all that other crap, but keep it professional while you’re here, okay
? No romps in the stockroom. No—”

  “Dad! We didn’t romp in the stockroom!”

  “Oh bull. I practically created that room for romping for your mom and me. It was the only handle you and your brother couldn’t reach.”

  “Dad!” I shout again, covering my ears. “I don’t need to hear that.”

  “Your mom and I had sex, Wren. A lot of it.”

  “I want to die.”

  “I do too,” Foster mutters. “Maybe we can be buried together.”

  “Anyway,” my dad continues, living for our embarrassment right now. “Just keep it cool at work. No romps. No making out. No sex eyes across the room.”

  “Dad,” I hiss.

  “No drama at all. We clear?”

  We both bob our heads up and down enthusiastically, wanting this moment to end and then never, ever be spoken of again.

  “Good. Now get to work.”

  We practically sprint away, going in complete opposite directions even though we don’t need to.

  The next several hours are spent avoiding one another, pretending there’s nothing going on and acting like I definitely did not have Foster’s dick inside my mouth a measly two hours ago.

  “Kid! How the hell are ya?” Randy asks as I slide up to his table.

  “Not too shabby.”

  “That’s him,” Blythe says, pointing to Foster across the dining room. “That’s the boy she’s in love with.”

  A blush steals up my cheeks.

  “Stop it,” I admonish. “Give me your order or I’m kicking you both out.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Randy promises. “Would she, Blythe?”

  “She’d miss your charm too much,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

  “You two wear me out.”

  “You love it though. By the way, I talked to Ed. It was awfully nice of that anonymous donor to pay for an entire year’s worth of your rent. I know that takes a lot of pressure off the both of you. Maybe his kids will give him hanging on to the place a rest. Makes no sense other than they think they’ll get more money.” He shakes his head. “So glad we never had any kids, Blythe. I’d have gone insane raising a bunch of little shits like that.”

  “Anonymous donor?”

  He tilts his head. “You have talked to Ed, right?”

  “I have, but he didn’t mention a donor of any sort.”

  “Oh, well…uh, surprise, kid. You have a guardian angel.”

  “Huh.”

  Through a daze, I take their order and punch it into the computer, so many things running through my head.

  Anonymous donor…

  Who would do something like that? Why? Winston tried to help me out after his accident, but I refused to accept the handout and we had a massive fight over it. I know he wouldn’t try to butt in again because neither of us want a rerun of that mess.

  It wasn’t my dad, because he doesn’t have the money.

  Neither does Drew.

  Or anyone else I know.

  Except…

  No.

  There’s no way.

  Foster wouldn’t dare.

  Although he did mention a payout from his divorce…

  “Foster!”

  It leaves my mouth before I can stop it. It’s loud. Angry.

  His head whips my way, eyes wide. Scared.

  Guilty.

  That son of a bitch!

  Slice Twenty

  Foster

  She knows.

  I don’t know how she knows, but she does.

  I gulp. “Yes?”

  Hand on her hip, shoulders pushed back, she marches toward me.

  “Tell me you did not pay for my house. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I don’t have to kick your ass in the middle of this restaurant and embarrass you.”

  “Wellllll…” I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “I, uh, I can’t.”

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” she shouts, all heads in the restaurant now turning our way.

  Simon comes barreling out of the back room, gunning straight for us.

  “What did we just talk about?” he hisses.

  “Does me kicking Foster’s ass count as drama?”

  “Yes!” her father urges, his eyes darting around the room, smiling politely to the guests, trying to subdue them.

  “Then I quit!” She rips her apron off her small body, balls it up in her angry fists, and tosses it to the floor in a huff.

  “What!” her dad shouts.

  Knowing I shouldn’t, I can’t help but laugh at her antics and how angry she looks right now. Her face is red, nostrils flaring. She looks like a bull ready to charge anyone wearing red.

  My laughter sets her off even more.

  She reaches up and locks my ear in her fist. “Get your ass outside, Marlett.”

  “Wren Daniels!”

  Simon’s mouth is dropped to the floor, but she doesn’t care, ignoring him and marching right past him, me in tow.

  “You can’t quit!” he yells after us. “I won’t let it happen!”

  Wren drags me through the door and out of the parking lot. She doesn’t stop until we’re standing on the other side of the property line.

  “Since you’re still an employee here and I can’t kick your ass on the premises, we’re doing this here.”

  I laugh at her again.

  “Shut up!” she yells. “I can’t freakin’ believe you right now.”

  “Why?” I lift a shoulder. “I had the money and I wanted to help. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is too a big deal, because not only is it a lot of money, it’s also real ridiculous you think you have to buy my love.”

  “It’s not a—wait, what?” I shake my head. “Are you serious? You think I did this to buy your love?”

  “Yes!”

  “Did you take up drinking when I wasn’t looking? Drug use? Should I be calling rehab centers? You’re clearly on something.”

  She glowers at me. “Foster…”

  I step toward her, grabbing her waist and tugging until she’s flush against me. I grasp her chin between my fingers and hold her stare to mine.

  “Don’t fucking ‘Foster’ me, Wren. I didn’t do this to buy your love. I don’t need to buy it. I already have it.”

  “You—” The words die on her lips.

  In that moment, I watch her fall completely.

  Wholly.

  Wren Daniels loves me.

  And I love her.

  “You do,” she says breathlessly. “Oh hell. You do.”

  I nod. “I do.”

  “You’ve had it.”

  “I know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I laugh. “I did. You just didn’t listen.”

  Her head drops to my chest and I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me as she laughs.

  “I’m an idiot. I’ve been waiting for that moment, ya know, the one that just feels like ‘the big one’ where it hits me like a ton of bricks. But I didn’t have to. You’ve been sneaking your way into my heart for the last thirteen years, piece by piece.”

  “Slice by slice,” I tease. “I mean, it’s only right for us to compare it to pizza.”

  “Shut up.” She grins. “Is that how it was for you?”

  “Yep. It was slow, took years for me to realize, but once I did, I couldn’t shake it. You were mine before you even knew it.”

  “I know it now.”

  “You’ve known it, you just didn’t know.”

  “Because that’s not confusing.” She chuckles. “What are we going to do now?”

  “Quit pretending?”

  “Oh, please. I haven’t pretended in…well, ever.”

  “Really?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I tried at first, but I couldn’t do it. I gave up about five minutes into it.” She purses her lips. “Well, actually up until the moment you regaled me with your semi-autobiographical tale.”

  “It worked, though, didn’t it?”
r />   “It worked.”

  “I love you, Wren.”

  “I know you do.”

  I laugh at her defiance and press my mouth to hers in a soft, chaste kiss.

  She sighs blissfully as I pull away, and her lips move as she whispers something I can’t make out.

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “Uh-huh.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you going to make me tickle it out of you?”

  “No!” She tries to push away from me, but I tighten my grip so she can’t go anywhere. “I said, Thank you.”

  My brows knit together. “For what?”

  “For my house. For saving my business. For loving me even when I didn’t love you back. For coming back.”

  “I came back for you, you know. I mean, sure, a part of it was me tucking tail and running, but it was also you. I couldn’t stay away, not when a piece of my heart was here with you.”

  She pushes up on her tiptoes, letting her lips linger on mine.

  “I love you,” she says against them.

  And I feel it.

  Everywhere.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  I smirk against her. “I know, Birdie. I know.”

  A Slice of the Future

  Foster

  “If you don’t move that ass of yours, I will smack it.”

  “I’m confused.” Wren pokes her head around the doorjamb, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Is that a threat? You…beating my cheeks?”

  I laugh as she ducks back into the bathroom she’s been in for the last twenty minutes. “Apparently not anymore, but we do need to get going. Wait a damn minute—why are you not in more of a rush? It’s your best friend’s baby we’re going to see.”

  “I want to look cute!”

  “For who? The baby? Pretty sure the little alien doesn’t care what you look like.”

  She comes charging out of the bathroom, pointing one of her ten thousand makeup brushes at me, pointy end out. “Don’t you dare call that precious angel an alien. He is perfect, I tell you—perfect! You leave his misshapen head out of this!”

  I smirk at her, and she growls at me.

  “What!”

  “Are you really going to yell at me right now with one eyebrow on?”