Amber dug into the packages. Both of us reaching over the other as I unpacked while she ferreted out all the ingredients she was looking for. It was strangely domestic.
I’d never lived with a woman before. I’d dated quite a few in my twenty-eight years and even got serious with a few, but none had the easy familiarity of whatever was going on between us.
“Would you like some music?”
She was mixing some sort of concoction and threw a smile over her shoulder. “That would be great actually. And can I borrow a shirt? This sweater is too hot for cooking.”
“Sure.”
I put the last of the groceries away and went to my room. I shrugged out of my flannel and grabbed one of my concert T-shirts from my drawer. Figuring she’d get a kick out of the Nickelback shirt from my early teen years.
She spotted me as I walked in. “Oh, good.” She held the spoon in the broth. “You stir.” She plucked the shirt out of my hand. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hall.”
I heard her laughter halfway down the hall. Mission accomplished.
The scents from the pot were making me hungry. There were two others on the burners as well. I lifted the lid and found chicken resting.
“Much better.” She came back wearing my shirt. She’d kicked off her boots as well leaving her in striped, mismatched socks.
She was breath-stealingly beautiful.
So much so, that I couldn’t help lowering my mouth to hers.
The kiss was unhurried and sweet. Where the maze had been an off the charts heat, this was something different. It matched the vibe of the kitchen and the light, easy music that had popped up on my randomizer. I felt the edge of heat, but eased back before it could come up and ruin the mood.
She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth as if to hold onto the taste.
I cupped her jaw and told myself to step back, but I couldn’t help myself and took another taste.
She went onto her toes and gripped my T-shirt. She nipped at my lower lip. “There’s something about a man who likes to kiss.” She reached up to sift her fingers through the hair at my nape.
“Helps when the woman smells like you.”
She slid her hand down to my chest and patted it. “Okay, back up before I burn everything.”
“Can’t have that.”
I resisted the urge to stroke down her back. I was a touchy guy. Sometimes to the detriment of my relationships. I’d been with more than one woman who found me too intense.
To keep myself busy, I moved to my wine fridge. “White or red?”
“It’s pretty salty. Maybe something white? Do you have a Riesling?”
“I can handle that.”
While I opened and poured, she cut up the chicken and slid it into the pot along with a cutting board full of vegetables. She pushed everything into the broth and put the top on.
She picked up her glass. “Needs to cook for a bit. I’m about ready to chew on the counter. Where did those chips go?”
I laughed and opened the cupboard. “Here you go.”
She snatched the bag and padded into my living room. “Your house is nice. Did you add onto it?”
“Yeah. Want a quick tour?”
“Sure.” She took a handful of chips and followed me down the hall.
