Elijah sets his sheet music on the counter and moves closer to the mixing bowl, peering at the batter with genuine interest. “Can I taste?”
Charlie laughs, the sound breaking some of the tension. “It’s raw.”
“I’ll risk it.” He dips his finger into the bowl before she can stop him, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes close as he tastes, and the expression on his angel face is obscene. “Mon Dieu. This is incredible.”
Charlie’s cheeks flush as she watches him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip in that way that makes me want to bite it myself.
Marcus leans against the counter beside her, his tattooed arm brushing hers. “You’ve been baking a lot lately. More than usual.”
“Helps me think.” She doesn’t look at any of us, focusing instead on scraping the remaining batter into the pan. “Everything’s been so tense. I needed to do something with my hands.”
The way she says it makes me think of other things she could do with those hands.
Things that would make all of us forget about threats and surveillance and the constant fear of discovery.
“We’re all tense,” Elijah says softly. He’s watching Charlie with an intensity that makes my jaw clench. “But we’ll get through this. We always do.”
She slides the pan into the oven, sets the timer, then turns to face us. All three of us are watching her, and I see the moment she realizes it.
The way her breath catches.
The flush that spreads from her cheeks down her throat, disappearing beneath the neckline of her dress.
I want to follow that path with my mouth, to taste every inch of skin until she’s gasping my name.
“You’re all staring,” she whispers.
“Can’t help it.” Marcus’s voice drops lower, more intimate. “You’re beautiful when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” But her hands shake slightly as she wipes them on her apron. “I’m just…aware.”
“Of what?” Elijah asks, though we all know the answer.
“Of you. All of you.” Her hazel eyes move between us, green and gold in the fluorescent light. “Of how close you’re standing. Of how you’re looking at me like…”
“Like what?” I hear myself ask, my voice rougher than I intend.
She swallows hard, and I watch her throat work. “Like you want to devour me.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with truth and desire and the dangerous electricity that’s been building for weeks.
Marcus makes a sound low in his throat.
Elijah’s fingers curl against the counter.
And I…I take a step closer despite knowing I shouldn’t.
“We do,” I admit, the confession tearing from somewhere deep inside me. “Every moment. Every breath.”
Charlie’s eyes widen, her lips parting slightly.
The kitchen feels too hot, too small, the air thick with everything we can’t say, can’t do, not here.
Not now.
Not with threats closing in from every direction.
The oven timer dings, breaking the moment.
