“Yes, please,” she whispered against his lips.
He growled again, deep in his throat, as he stepped away. “Why don’t you grate the parm?” He pushed a plate witha wrapped hunk of parmesan on it toward her. “There’s a microplane grater in the drawer behind you.”
As he stepped away and turned his back to her, she fanned herself. Cheese. Right. Grate cheese.Notjump the man. At least not until after dinner...
Smiling to herself, she grabbed the fancy grater and unwrapped the cheese. For a moment, she simply watched him. When he said he’d make her dinner, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. She’d expected stilted conversation with a dose of awkward. Not that any of the time they’d spent together had been like that, but because... Well, that’s how things tended to end up with her. Things started out good but then devolved. But Xander? He was unlike anyone she’d ever met before. The more time she spent with him, the more she was appreciating it, appreciatinghim.
Watching him move around the kitchen calmed her. For such a large man, he moved with ease and grace. For as long as she could remember, her brothers had teased her, saying that they always knew where she was because she walked like a stomping elephant. Even though she was barely over five-two, they weren’t wrong. Delicate walking had never been her thing.
As Xander swiftly laid out his ingredients on the island, it was obvious this wasn’t his first time making this meal. In one glass dish, he quickly combined the breadcrumb concoction with an array of spices—with no measuring spoon in sight. He broke two eggs into another dish, expertly breaded the chicken pieces, and laid them into a third dish. Finally, he popped the chicken dish into the preheated oven and set the oven timer.
She grinned as he washed his hands, then pulled out a chopping board, some fresh herbs, and a few zucchinis. “Mr. Bonetti, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume this is not your first chicken parmesan rodeo.”
“Your assumption is correct, Miss Hansen. And for the record, adding in panko is the secret,” he said, winking at her. “I can make a handful of dishes, but it was heavily suggested that I make this for you tonight.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Oh?”
“My friend Bean says this is the best meal I make, and since the woman’s a certified genius, I take her advice seriously.”
“Smart man. So you can cook?—”
“Only a handful of dishes,” he said with an easy grin. “Don’t want to set the bar too high, you know.”
From where she was standing, the bar was looking pretty damn impressive. The guy was something else.
“Hmm...” She stared at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. There had to be a fatal flaw somewhere.
He cringed. “I’m afraid to ask what that ‘hmm’ means.”
“There’s gotta be something you do that’s annoying.”
He barked out a laugh. “Baby, I can get Tash and Wilson on the phone. They’ll be more than happy to list my annoying qualities.”
She highly doubted that. The way he talked about his friends, she was certain that after some initial teasing, they’d be listing his accolades. “Do you talk during movies?”
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “What’s your opinion on talking during movies?”
She shook her head and tsked. “Uh, uh, uh. Looks like we’ll find out later during the movie portion of our evening.”
“Yikes. No pressure or anything.” He made a face that was equal parts adorable and sexy.
Yeah, this guy was too much.
A nagging voice whispered in her brain, reminding her that she had strict dating rules for herself. Rules she’d established to protect herself. No kissing until date two. No rounding the bases until seven dates. No sex until after two months of dating.
Another voice—a louder, disarmingly confident one—scoffed. Where had those damn rules gotten her? Nowhere.
Actually, no.
Those ridiculous rules had resulted in one disastrous relationship after another. But it had all led her to this moment. Standing with a man she’d technically already kissed before they’d had their first date. A man who, after their first official date, had given her a panty-melting kiss. A man who’d not only gone out of his way to chauffeur her to and from work, but who was a bona fide gentleman.
She was chucking those rules out the window, because they’d done the job. They’d led her to this exact moment, and while every part of her wanted to forget dinner and get back to kissing the man, she knew there was no rush. Because the way he was looking at her left no question that they’d get there, probably sooner rather than later. In the meantime, she was going to focus on the now. On the man who was making her dinner and who she was determined to get to know better.
Anticipation zinged through her, and she remembered a question she’d wanted to ask when they’d arrived at his house. “When we pulled in earlier, was that a motorcycle I saw in your garage?”
The way his eyes lit up had her stomach fluttering. The man truly was ridiculously handsome.
“It is. It’s a Panigale. Do you ride?”
