“Mhm,” she mumbled.
I drained the pasta, stirring in some olive oil so the noodles wouldn’t stick together. “All right, let me just finish the shrimp and we’ll be ready to eat.” I flicked on the burner, heating up olive oil, butter, and garlic in a stainless steel pan.
A minute later the scent of fresh garlic filled the kitchen, and I tossed in the shrimp with a dash of white wine. Tegan watched intently as I shimmied the pan to flip the shrimp.
“That is so sexy,” she said, her voice husky.
If she kept talking like that, we weren’t going to make it through dinner without me hauling her off to bed.
“What? This?” I asked, tossing the shrimp again.
“Yes. Watching your partner confidently cook a meal for you is so hot.”
I grinned. “This is just the first of many.”
Twenty-Three
Tegan
“Why don’t you have aseat and I’ll take care of the rest?” Atlas said, stirring the shrimp and noodles together.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t mind—”
“Tegan.” The stern way he said it was sexy—making me want to comply.
“Yes, sir.” I took off my apron and sat at the island.
Atlas looked at me over his shoulder and smiled. “That’s right. Now, what would you like to drink? I have sparkling water, blood orange soda—”
“Oh, I love blood orange. One of those, please.”
I watched in awe as Atlas popped the tab on the soda can with the sharp black tip of his claw.
“Would you like me to pour it in a glass?” He cocked his head to the side, one of his ears drooping slightly in question.
Fuck.He was so freaking cute.
“The can is fine! No need to dirty a glass.” I smiled as he set the can down in front of me.
I watched him as he moved around the kitchen, slipping on apair of heavy-duty oven mitts and pulling the garlic bread out of the oven. He hummed as he plated two generous servings of scampi and placed the basket of garlic bread between us on the island.
Leaning over me, he set my plate down and whispered against the shell of my ear, “The fruits of our labor.” The cold tip of his nose sent a shiver down my spine and had warmth pooling between my legs.
So effortlessly sexy.
“Thank you,” I said as I spread my napkin over my lap.
The delicious aroma of garlic and parsley filled my nostrils as it wafted off the pasta. Atlas watched me, his yellow eyes glowing expectantly.
I picked up my fork and twirled a hefty bite around the prongs before popping it into my mouth.
“Mmm,” I groaned as the rich, buttery flavor hit my taste buds. Not only was he hot, but he was an amazing chef.
This was it. He was never getting rid of me now.
“Good?” he asked with a smile, and finally picked up his own fork.
“It’s freaking delicious,” I said while trying to cover my full mouth with my free hand. I wasn’t being very ladylike, but Atlas seemed to preen over the compliment and finally dug into his own plate of pasta.
