He dropped a lingering kiss to thecorner of my jaw and spoke against my skin. “Me too. But how about some foodinstead?”
I shivered at his implication. “Areyou going to cook for me?” Apparently, I’d been body-snatched by a horny alienwith a much sexier voice.Was that reallyme?
He pulled back, and I watched hismouth spread in a slow smile. “Don’t move.”
I laughed when he held up his hands,wiggling those unfairly attractive fingers. He walked deliberately over to thesink and washed his hands, sending me a quick wink.
We shared another searing look, apromise for more, but then he got down to business. He moved around thekitchen, turning things on and gathering ingredients. I decided watching himcook was my new favorite activity.
Who knew prepping vegetables couldbe sensual? Or spicing meat? Or filling up a pot with water?
This was crazy.
Those things weren’t erotic.
They were just normal, everydaythings that had no sexual connotation whatsoever.
I gripped the edge of the counter,digging my fingers into the hard edges of the lip. Yeah, no. It wasn’t working.Killian Quinn was sexy as sin in this kitchen. He could have been deboning afish right now, and I’d want him deboning me.
See what I did there?
“He’s a prick.”
My thoughts were way too far in thegutter to have any context for his comment. “Who?”
“The critic. Noble. He hates Ezra,which means he hates me. The review was a setup to talk shit aboutLilou. I should have known better.” He shook his head,giving the food at his fingertips all his attention. “But I’d been cocky. Ithought I could outcook his opinion of me.” He lifted his head and met my gaze.“I was wrong.”
“Why does he hate Ezra?”
He chuckled darkly. “A lot of peoplehate Ezra. That doesn’t mean the review was less true.”
My chest squeezed with sympathy.“The review is tainted by a bully with an agenda. You can’t let it get to you.”
A bitter smirk lifted one side ofhis mouth, unamused and surprisingly self-deprecating. “Trite. Unimaginative.Formulaic. Those were the words he used. They’re the truth I’ve needed to hearfor a while, but nobody has been brave enough to say them to me.”
He wasn’t any of those things. Noteven a little bit. But his menu was, and there was nothing he could do aboutit. “What’s the deal with you and Ezra? Why are you so loyal?”
“He’s my brother.”
“Wait. What?”
Killian moved around in the kitchen,pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry. “Well, foster brother. But wemight as well be blood. He’s the closest thing I have to family other than Jo.”
My eyes widened in shock, but hedidn’t notice. “She raised you both?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” When helaughed this time, the sound was lighter, full of warmth. “She whipped us bothinto shape. Ezra and I were both products of the system. Me, because my parentswere absolute degenerates. Drug dealers. Drug addicts. The state pulled me fromtheir care when I was five. Ezra’s mom was a decent human; she died when he wasten and didn’t have family to take care of him.” He paused for a minute as hemoved to the stove and started a sauce over hot flame. “Not surprisingly weturned into troubled teens. Ezra was smarter than me and got caught less, butboth of us bounced around in the system never fitting in with the fosterfamilies that couldn’t handle us. He got to Jo first. By the time I showed up,Jo had her hands full with one rebellious teen; I had figured the last thingshe wanted was another.”
“So, you pulled it together?” Iguessed.
His smile was full of memories andnostalgia. “No. I got myself arrested for stealing her car. She called the copson me, then made me sit there overnight and think about what I’d done wrong.The truth was Jo didn’t put up with shit. She’d already whipped Ezra into someshape, and he’d only been there for weeks. I knew she’d try to do the samething to me. But I had never had an adult in my life that cared about mebefore. I mean, maybe my case worker. He seemed to care if I lived or died. Butother than that, there was no one. I knew Ezra’s story because we’d housedtogether more than once, but never for long. I saw the way he looked at herlike he trusted her. I watched him do what she asked and use manners. It wasthe most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t want to turn into him.”
“But you did.”
“Well, I’d like to think I’m thebetter version. But yeah, there’s just something about Jo that crawls underyour skin and makes you want to love her. She finally got me out of jail, butinformed me immediately that I needed a job to pay all my court and legal feesoff.
“I thought she was joking at first,but Jo doesn’t joke. She put me to work on her farm. I was only fourteen, andthe only food I had ever eaten was what was put before me. Depending on thefoster family, sometimes it was nutritious and tolerable. Sometimes it was asoggy TV dinner and a beer. Jo put real food in my hand and told me to grow it.She said I couldn’t count on anything, not even a steady meal. If I was tiredof not knowing where my next meal was coming from, then I should learn to cookit myself. So, I did.
“She taught me how to grow food andjudge it, pick out the best and recognize the not-good-enough. When I turned outto be decent at growing, she moved me into the kitchen and showed me how to turnmy harvest into a meal. It was the first time I had ever loved something.”
