He figured it out and swooped down.His chest brushed against mine, his length pressing at my core. “So impatient,”he murmured.
And then there was no more reason tocomplain. He moved inside me, filling, satisfying, driving me to a breathlessprecipice. We found our rhythm, pushing, pulling, the way we always weretogether.
My legs wrapped around his waist,needing him deeper. His kisses trailed over my throat, down to my collarbones.He took a nipple in his mouth, and I arched against him, desperate for more…for everything. And then he gave it to me. We came together in a panting,sighing, gasping harmony. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes and every part ofme tensed in delicious climax.
He was all tight muscle and hungryneed until it was over, then he settled next to me in a languid pile ofsatisfaction. “I love you, VeraDelane.”
It was less of a shock now, now thatI was half dazed from sensation and bliss. “I love you too, KillianQuinn.”
We fell asleep bare naked andtotally intertwined, legs, arms and torsos wrapped together in sated intimacy.He held me through the night, and my heart responded to the sweetness of histouch with clear acceptance.
I woke up thinking crazy thoughtsabout our future together… about our kitchen. I woke up smiling and laughingand delirious with happiness. Which was probably why I stayed with him allmorning. He kept me close, never taking his hands off me, not even when he madethe best pancakes I had ever had. I mean, ever. I mean the best pancakes in thehistory of pancakes.
It was also probably why I didn’tshut down his restaurant idea. Not the night before. Not in the morning. Andnot when he dropped me back at my car.
I didn’t even shut it down when hesent me a reminder text later that afternoon to just “Think about it.”
So instead of going away, thisimpulsive, short-sighted, irrational idea grew like a weed instead.
Or a flower.
It grew like a tree that had startedas a fragile seed but now stretched toward heaven with heavy, fruit-filledlimbs, a thick, sturdy center and roots that plunged deep in the dirt. Maybehis idea wasn’t totally crazy.
Maybe, just maybe, I’d started torealize how very brilliant he was instead.
ChapterTwenty-Five
I flung the door of Foodie open andpractically threw the crates of food inside. Thank God, Killian had insisted Istore them atLiloubecause I was running way toolate to have made it to the commissary today.
Granted, I decided my hours and ifmy customers had to wait, then so be it. Except I couldn’t get myself to relax!I’d stayed way too late at Killian’s this afternoon. Then I’d wasted even moretime sitting on the edge of my bed thinking about his offer.
Killian Quinn wanted to open arestaurant with me.
With me.
He wanted to open a restaurant withme.
It was so crazy I almost didn’tbelieve it happened. Throw on top of it the offer to audition for Bianca? Whatwas happening to the world!
This was the end. It had to be.
I leaned out the window and lookedfor the giant meteor on its way to obliterate Earth. Nothing. The North Koreansthen.
It had to be.
Realizing I’d frozen, and instead ofmiseenplace, I’dgone back to staring blankly while I tried to make sense of Killian’s offer, Ishook myself out of the stupor and got to work.
Prepping everything for a night oforders took some time, and I lost myself in chopping, dicing, julienning andall the other knife-involved tasks. When Vann showed up three hours later, Iwas only just starting to believe I could open on time.
He stepped inside Foodie andwhistled low. “Whoa, Vera. Last minute menu change?”
I wiped sweat from my brow with thetowel tucked in my apron, pausing for a second to say hi to him. “I got a latestart today.”
“I can see that.”
I rolled my eyes at my brother’sself-righteous attitude. As if he’d never been late to open Cycle Life. Please.
“If you want to help, I’m not goingto stop you,” I told him.
