Pure Pleasure by Ava McKnight

small and perfectly molded—a deliciously wrapped present with a tiny heap of sprinkles on top, piled in the center. It was almost a shame to bite into such a pretty, delicate package, but when I did…” I sighed, recalling that very precious moment with my mother when we’d felt spoiled by something as simple as a piece of chocolate.
    “My God,” I said, as the memory rushed back to me. “The rich dark-chocolate coating was luxurious. The caramel inside was smooth and decadent…and the burst of gray salt—that’s what the sprinkles were—was so unexpected and sensational. I can’t even describe how fantastic and self-indulgent the chocolate was. It was extraordinary, really.”
    I could almost taste the dynamic combination of the sweet and salty flavor on my tongue.
    “So you have a sweet tooth?” Ky asked.
    “Not really. I’d just never tasted something so rich and luscious. Of course, my mother and I were shocked to find a small box cost almost thirty dollars. You can imagine our jaws dropping to the floor over the more elaborate, nearly hundred-and-fifty-dollar Japanese Chabako boxes with truffles inside them. The most expensive chocolate we’d ever splurged on was a two-dollar-and-ninety-nine-cent heart-shaped box we bought at a drugstore one Valentine’s Day.” I remember how awestruck we’d been by the chocolate shop, the treats and the prices. “On the bus home, she told me the day I should consider myself successful would be the day I walked into Fran’s and bought a big box of chocolates without thinking twice about the cost. Without it putting even the tiniest dent in my budget or making me feel guilty for purchasing something so frivolous and decadent.”
    Ky was quiet for a few moments, then asked, “You haven’t been back to Seattle since you left?”
    “No. I’m saving that trip for the day I can afford to take Fran’s to my mother without cringing over the price tag.”
    “Success comes in a lot of different packages, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice.
    “Yes, but everyone has something with which to measure it by, right? This is the bar I set for myself.”
    “Hmm. Ever consider you might be selling your accomplishments short?”
    “No,” I was quick to say. “I want my mom to have more. Remember I told you how ashamed she was that she couldn’t provide for me in the way she wanted? I think every mother must feel that way when they can’t give their kids the stars and the moon. I hadn’t wanted those things for myself back then, but I want them for her. She’s so devoted and full of love.” Tears stung my eyes as I thought of my mom, a very warm and compassionate woman. “She hasn’t been on a single date since my dad died. She could never love anyone else. Her loyalty is still to him and, as much as I wish she’d find a happier romantic ending, I can at least appreciate and respect the fact she loved him so much, she can’t love anyone else in the same way. Doesn’t even want to, really.”
    “That’s one hell of a commitment.”
    “Yes. But I guess when you find your soul mate, there’s no substitute.”
    He kissed my shoulder, but didn’t seem to have anything to add to my assumption. He held me tightly and I reveled in the comforting embrace. It chased away my tears.
    Finally, he said, “I have to be up early, but you can sleep in. No one will bother you here. The trucks are off the line at eight and will run for several hours.”
    “I’m excited to see the race,” I told him. “Now that I know more about the sport, it’s really quite interesting.”
    “Wait ’til tomorrow. Hundreds of enthusiastic fans amp up the energy level. It’s something to see.”
    I was looking forward to it. “I’ll be there. Now you should sleep.”
    “Sweet dreams,” he murmured against my neck.
    I closed my eyes and kept my previously damning thoughts about what I was doing in his bed out of my head awhile longer. The soft snoring from the hunky man whose chest