"Yeah." My voice was thick with emotion. "It is."
When the pasta and salad were ready, we sat at my small table, and our knees kept bumping. I wanted to tell him that he made my empty apartment feel like home, but I tamped down the words.
After dinner, I suggested he rest more, and told him he had to stay the night. I neglected to say I’d phoned Miriam and told her to get the heating fixed which she had. I couldn’t bear to have Zale leave. Despite the warnings in my head about getting involved with him, I didn’t want this quiet intimacy to end.
He settled on the couch and I sat at the opposite end. I told him how I’d burned my first batch of croissants.
"What did you want to be?" I asked, wanting to keep to safe topics. "Before your family planned your life?"
He tilted his head. "I always liked the idea of creating something tangible. Before I came here, I worked as a graphic designer designing websites."
Though my beast didn’t comprehend what a website was, he urged me to have Zale design one for me.
"Hawthorn," Zale said softly. "Thank you for looking after me today."
I wanted to do so much more than look after him for one day. Instead, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let him go, keeping out the cold and anyone who tried to hurt him.
My wolf was quieter now. As if he sensed something was changing between us, something that had nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with choice.
But me choosing to ignore my self-imposed rule was a terrible idea.
Relationships never worked because no one could put up with the demands my profession put on me. And Zale was my employee and he was recovering from being sick. All reasons why my mind shouldn’t be studying his big blue eyes and picturing what he’d look like if he removed his pants.
My hand moved, as if of its own accord, to brush hair from his forehead. His skin was cooler now, but the touch sent heat through me anyway.
"You still need rest." But I didn't move away.
"I know." Neither did he. "In a minute."
My hand slid to cup his jaw. His breath faltered.
"This is complicated," I managed to get out.
"Everything is.” His eyes lowered, lingering on my mouth. "But this feels right."
This felt more right than anything had in years. And I was so tired of being alone, of convincing myself the bakery was enough. Maybe it didn't have to be.
I closed the distance between us.
The kiss started soft, tentative, but the moment our lips met, the pent up emotion inside me ignited. Zale made a small sound and he fisted my shirt, pulling me closer. I'd meant to keep it gentle, but then his lips parted and I was lost.
I pulled him into my lap. He came willingly, straddling me, his fingers threading through my hair. The kiss deepened and I gripped his hips, feeling the heat of him even through his clothes.
This was everything I'd been denying myself for weeks. I relished his taste and how he gasped when I kissed over his throat.
"Hawthorn." My name on his lips was a pull I couldn’t resist.
I kissed him harder as my hands roamed over his back. He rocked against me and a slow, molten warmth slid through me.
This was moving too fast. But I couldn't stop and didn't want to. Not when he was kissing me like I was air and he was drowning and when every nerve ending in my body was on fire.
"We should—" I started, but he kissed me again, muffling my words.
"Don't think," he murmured against my lips. "Please."
I stood and lifted him with me. His legs wrapped around my waist and desire surged through me. I carried him to the bedroom, kissing him the whole way, unable to stop touching him.
When I lay him on my bed, he looked up at me and his gaze darkened with desire.
