Or nuclear.
To add to thechaos, my noodles stuck to the bottom of their pot and I’d over-dressed thesalad. The giant bowl I’d grabbed at the store earlier was approximatelyone-fourth of the way filled with soggy spring mix.
“I can fix this,” Itold my colander, setting it in the sink and preparing it for the noodles Ineeded to drain in approximately two minutes. I started to hunt for morelettuce in an effort to give the salad volume when a knock sounded on my door.
Ezra.Damn it!Of all the nights to be ontime.
I’d texted himearlier today with my apartment number and door code to get in the building.Because apparently, he terrified me in a relationship sense, but I trusted himenough that I didn’t think he was a serial killer.
I spun around,pressing a hand to my forehead and wishing I could make this all justdisappear. Was it too much to tell him I had been vandalized? That this was thework of a vindictive neighbor?Don’tstart sweating. Don’t start sweating. Whatever you do don’t start sweating!
Oh my god, I’m a disaster.
Finally, I facedthe door, still contemplating shutting off all the lights and pretending nobodywas home.
My feet betrayed meby walking toward the entryway. My hands joined the mutiny and somehow, despitewhat my brain was telling them to do, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the doorfor Ezra.
He stood therewaiting patiently in casual, dark wash jeans and a navy-blue oxford with thesleeves rolled to his forearms. There was a bottle of wine in his hand and ahalf smile on his handsome face.
Be still my heart.
It had only been alittle over a week since we’d been together, but the sight of him here, at myapartment, looking like he always did, made my breath catch.
“Hi,” he said.
Hi.
He’d said hi. NotMolly. Not just my name. But hi.
The way he said myname always did funny things to my insides—like turn them into warm honey. Butthis simple hi was shockingly intimate. It wasn’t bold, familiar or demanding.It was gentle. And tentative. And sexy as hell.
God,this man.
“Hi,” I managed toreturn breathlessly. “Come on inside?”
He stepped in myapartment and set the wine down on the side table. The door clicked shut behindhim, then his mouth found mine without hesitation. I wasn’t even sure how ithad happened or when he’d pulled me against him or how I’d gotten pushedagainst the wall. But there we were, kissing hello in my hallway.
It started slowlyas we explored each other again, relearning the touch and taste of each other.He tasted like mint and smelled so very good. I couldn’t get enough of him orthis kiss. I wanted more. Needed more.
Apparently, so didhe. Our innocent hello kiss quickly turned into a building appetite for eachother. His mouth was addicting, and the way it moved against mine made my toescurl and my belly heat. My hands landed on his broad shoulders while his wrappedaround my waist, pulling me against him. I willingly went, letting my chestpress against his, enjoying every inch of his hard, toned body and the way hebent down to meet my mouth.
His tongue brushedover my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. My teethgrazed his bottom lip, knowing it would drive him crazy. I was inordinatelypleased when it did. He groaned in the back of his throat, making a sound thatI felt all the way to my core.
His hands splayedover my ribs, his thumbs resting just beneath my bra. He moved his kisses tothe line of my jaw, trailing down my throat. I lost the ability to think whenhe kissed me like this…to remember all the reasons I had been afraid of seeinghim again. We were nothing but lips and tongues and teeth. And as his hands gotbraver and braver, I thought I would explode with anticipation.
“It’s a good thingwe decided to have dinner here,” he murmured against my skin.
Reality crashedover me like ice cold water, releasing me from the spell his mouth had cast.“Dinner!” I pushed him away and sprinted to the kitchen, readying myself forthe horror that awaited me. “Oh no!” My noodles bubbled over, splashing bigdrops of water all over the burner. The sauce hissed angrily and I realized Ihad forgotten to turn it down. “Oh no!” I repeated when I remembered the garlicbread in the oven. Not wasting time with pot holders, I dove for it, retrievinga dark brown, oblong rock instead of bread.
I juggled it backand forth before eventually tossing the inedible hunk of carbs in the sink.
Staring at myburned meatballs, charred bread, overly-cooked noodles and limp lettuce made meseriously reevaluate what I was doing with my life.
“Awesome,” Isnarled at the unused colander.
“Is everythingokay?” Ezra asked carefully from behind me.
A hysterical laughbubbled out of me. No. Everything was not okay. But I didn’t even know where tostart or how to explain. I mean, the evidence spoke for itself. But what was Igoing to do now?
