“Hey, babe, is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about the movie American Pie?” he asked.

“What movie? I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

“American Pie. The scene where his friends tell him that uh, you know, feels like warm apple pie.”

She turned with a wooden spoon in one hand, her nose wrinkled in confusion. “What feels like apple pie?”

“You’ve seriously never heard about this scene?”

“Guess not, sorry.” She shrugged and went back to mixing. “What’s so great about it?”

“Baby, you will never look at apple pie the same again.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

“Okay, beautiful. It’s your appetite.” He chuckled and said, “The main character is played by Jason Biggs. He’s in high school, and he asks his buddies what it feels like to get to third base with a girl. They tell him it feels like warm apple pie. Then he comes home, and there’s fresh apple pie on the counter.”

She turned around, eyes wide. “He didn’t.”

“Oh yes, he did, and not just with his fingers.”

“No!” She laughed and made a grossed-out face. “Ew!” She put her hand on her hip, sassily arching her brow, and said, “So? Does it?”

“What?”

“Does it feel like warm apple pie?”

“How would I know? I’ve never fucked a pie.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms, crushing his lips to hers. “We’re watching that movie together this weekend.”

“Fine, but you’re not putting your you know what in my pies.”

“Baby, nothing could possibly feel as good as being buried deep inside you.” He took her in a moan-inducing kiss and then smacked her ass as she went back to making their perfect pies.

“Time for the secret ingredient,” she said coyly.

“What’s Gram’s secret?”

She glanced over her shoulder and said, “I can’t tell you that. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

He wound his arms around her from behind, sliding his hands up her shirt, fondling her breasts, loving the appreciative noises she made. “Maybe I can pleasure it out of you.”

“Uh-huh,” she said breathily.

He sank his teeth into the curve where her shoulder met her neck, sucking gently. She writhed against him, reaching behind her to hold on to him.

“That’s it, baby, touch me.”

She twisted out of his grip, eyes full of lust, but pointed the wooden spoon at him and said, “Keep all that hotness over there. We can’t…I need to get these in the oven.”

He stalked toward her. “I just want to know the secret ingredient.”

“No you don’t,” she said with a giggle.

He swept his arm around her, tugging her against him. “You’re right. I want all your secrets, Veronica Wescott, every damn one of them. And then I want to make our own secrets, our own traditions, our own everything.”

She went soft in his arms. “You’re making me all melty again. I love when you say things like that.”

“And I love when you’re all melty for me.”