I didn’tknow if that was Sarita or not. Ezra’s arrival back in Durham meant shit justgot real. No more practicing. No more pretending. I would have to face him andhis judgment. Was I up to that challenge? I might have only gotten practice atSarita doing front of house tasks, but I had a career in the kitchen gleanedfrom my efforts at Lilou. I knew how to run a kitchen. But would I be enoughfor Sarita?
Catchingmovement out of the corner of my eye, I swallowed a scream and swiveled to facethe intruder. My hands patted the counter blindly, searching for a knife orsauté pan or something I could use to defend myself.
“It’sme,” Wyatt soothed, his voice a calming rumble.
“God,you scared me,” I accused him. My heartbeat slowly began to calm down and mybreathing returned to normal. “I thought you went home for the night.”
“Iforgot something,” he said.
Iignored the thoughtful way he was looking at me, the way his eyes had darkenedand heated, laser focusing on me.
Howlong had he been standing there? I’d only noticed him a few seconds ago, but helooked so… fixated.
Mybody knew the answer, but my brain forced my mouth to ask the question anyway.“What did you forget?”
Hecrossed the kitchen in six long strides, reaching me on the seventh. One handslid around my waist, bringing my body flush with his. The other glided over myjawline, tipping my head back so he could steal a kiss from my mouth.
Hismouth was so hungry, so completely desperate for mine that I couldn’t doanything else but submit. I was helpless against his tsunami of desire. Heswept me off my feet and into the devastation that was Wyatt wanting something.
Andthat something was me.
Ikissed him back—that was the only logical response, the only reaction my bodywas capable of making.
Itwas this man. No matter how much I talked myself out of a physical reactionwith him, I had to admit to myself that I wanted him. And who wouldn’t?
Yes,he was inhumanly gorgeous to look at. And his tattoos perfectly tempting. Butit was more than that.
Itwas the way he looked at me across our busy kitchen, the way his eyes burnedhotter than the flames we cooked with. It was his tragic story he shared withme on Tuesday morning and the way he pulled on my heartstrings because of thelittle boy he was, the same little boy I sometimes still saw in him.
He’dsnared me with his rare smiles and even rarer laughter and the way he commandedthe kitchen so fiercely. He’d captured me with the flawless way he cooked andhis relentless expectations of perfection. It was the way he respected andtrusted me and didn’t think he could handle this kitchen without me. It wasthis thing that had been simmering between us for years and years. This thingthat I was only willing now to admit existed. This thing that was threateningto consume me entirely, drown me in the sheer force of it.
Iwrapped my arms around his neck and held on as the storm between us grew moreelectric. Our mouths fought, and our tongues warred. We were comfortable withthis now, we knew each other’s curves and angles. He preferred having my toplip and I wanted to nibble his bottom. We’d developed this greedy synchronicitybetween us, our constant push and pull, bringing the desire between us to aboil.
Hismouth moved to pay attention to my jawline, my ear, my neck. His hand reachedup and flicked open the remaining buttons of my coat that were still clasped. Istarted to shake off the coat and he helped by tearing it from my arms.
He’dlost his hours ago and stood pressed against me in only a thin t-shirt andpants. But they were too much. I couldn’t stand anything separating us. Nowthat I’d given into this, I wanted him stripped bare. I wanted all of him.
Everypart of him.
Myfingers gripped the edges of his shirt and tugged. “Are we alone?” I asked as Itasted his earlobe for the first time. God, he was decadent, rich, like thebest meal I’d ever had. I wanted more. And more. And more.
“Totally,”he confirmed. “The doors are locked.”
Togetherwe ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere… else. He crashedagainst me, his skin unbelievably hot. He pressed his chest to mine and abreathy moan escaped the back of my throat.
“Thisis crazy,” I murmured, trailing kisses along his hairline as he dipped his headto kiss the tops of my breasts.
As ifthe taste wasn’t enough, he cupped my breast with his large hand and squeeze,his thumb brushing over my nipple, teasing, tantalizing, tearing down whateverremained of the walls I’d built to keep him out.
Hepulled his head back, so he could meet my eyes. His were so dark, so perfectlydeep and warm. “Not crazy,” he said firmly. “It’s a long time coming.”
Ismiled because what else was I supposed to do? I wanted to ask him only ahundred questions to get to the bottom of that infuriating and crypticresponse, but I couldn’t seem to form the words.
Hestepped closer to me, letting me feel his body against the most intimate partof mine. I hadn’t thought we could get closer.
I waswrong.
Histhumb brushed over my nipple again. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” heordered. “And I will.”
