“No pet names.”
“Got it,” I say succinctly.
Colby pulls his hands out of his pockets and shakes his arms, like someone preparing to dive off a cliff. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Oh wow, he’s got to psych himself up for it. Great. I aim a reassuring smile at him as he turns towards me. I let him manhandle me into the circle of his arms. His chest is firm and broad against my own, sending a rush of warmth through me. There’s just something about a man who’s bigger and stronger than me that I love.
A hand tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck before he dips down to kiss me. I close my eyes against the onslaught of his lips on top of my own. He tastes like coffee and something that’s probably just Colby. The kiss is lovely, one of the nicerones I’ve experienced. But Colby is holding back. I can feel it in the tension of his shoulders, the absence of passion in his kiss.
Maybe he’s nervous. I’m not sure.
I slide my hands up his arms to settle around his neck. Licking into his mouth, I tilt my head to deepen the kiss. The tension eases out of Colby’s shoulders until he’s kissing me with no restraint, like we’ve kissed a hundred times before. Now that’s why I’m the favorite boyfriend. I love getting people to let go and relax enough to forget that they’re paying for me.
Colby’s fingers tighten painfully in my hair. He bites at my bottom lip, forcing me to let out an absolutely indecent moan. My brain shuts off for one glorious moment, then reboots quickly back online when Colby abruptly pulls away. I ache to chase after him, to kiss him again.
“That’s a husband kiss for sure,” Colby says, out of breath, eyes glazed over.
“Of course it is, we’re husbands.” I do my best to keep my voice even so he can’t tell just how out of control his kiss made me. Calm. I’m totally calm.
He smiles softly at me. A little, unsure sort of smile but it’s beautiful all the same. I rub my fingers through his stubble and tenderly brush my thumb under his eye. His eyes slowly close and his face tilts into my hand like it’s the first time he’s felt touch in years. Maybe it has been. Something about Colby tells me he’s touch starved. Those are my favorite types of clients.
We walk hand in hand back up to the house. He grips my hand tight, and I let him. Once inside the house, we go our separate ways. Unpacking my suitcase is my first line of business. My shirts line up beside his in the closet. There’s more of his clothes in there than I imagined for a week, but it’s his home, so maybe he leaves clothes here. I’m careful to respect his space in the bedroom, only putting my essentials out in the bathroom.
My presence is clear but it’s not overwhelming.
A little while later I find him in the kitchen preparing for dinner. His dark blue eyes flit up to me for a moment, before his gaze returns back to what he’s doing at the kitchen island. An array of vegetables dot the countertop along with chicken breast marinating in a glass pan. Some sort of spiced rice bubbles on the gas stovetop behind Colby.
“Wow,” I say in awe.
He winks good-naturedly at me. “Thank you. I love to cook.”
I take a seat at the kitchen island. “Obviously, and it smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”
He slides some raw vegetables in a bowl across the counter to me. “If you’re hungry.”
I wink back at him and take a few pieces of chopped pepper to nibble on as he finishes preparing our dinner for the grill. Turning my gaze towards the ocean, I notice that the sun is dipping down to kiss the horizon. Nothing tops a sunset at the beach. The sky is turning a deep orange and the color invades the kitchen, warming the house even more.
Colby quietly heads out to the balcony to grill our dinner. I can’t help but follow him, some unknown thing telling me to stay close. I lean against the railing as he gets started at the grill.
“God, that view is gorgeous,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
“It is.”
I glance over my shoulder at Colby to find him looking at me, not the sunset, and I flush under his weighty gaze. The sweet talking is appreciated although wholly unnecessary. I decide to not remind him I’m a sure thing. The smell of the dinner mixes with the smell of the ocean breeze creating an even more relaxing atmosphere. All my troubles just melt away.
“Dinner’s ready,” Colby calls out.
I turn from the railing and make my way over to take a seat at the table. A platter of grilled chicken, grilled vegetables, andsome kind of dirty rice sits at the center of the table. My mouth instantly waters. I’m not much of a cook myself and neither was my mother. I’ve spent the last ten years living off of takeout, delivery, and pre-made meals from the organic grocery store down the street from my apartment.
I take one bite of the chicken and moan out loud.
Colby chuckles as he cuts his chicken. “Good?”
“So good,” I say around a mouthful of food. I don’t even care that I look ridiculous. I eat the food like it’s my last meal on earth. It’s that good. The right amount of spice and sweetness and the chicken is so tender that I almost cry. “Are you a cook?”
Colby shakes his head with a smile. “No, I just enjoy cooking. I’m an architect.”
I eye him across the table. “That’s always seemed like such a cool job to me.”
