The unsaid part hung there:but we can’t have it.
With a wry smile, he continued toward his station, grabbing his helmet off the kitchen stool there.
“Are we still on for lessons?” I asked, hating how desperate I sounded.
The helmet hung limply at his side, and he shrugged. “Whatever you want, Chef.” He rubbed his lips together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
The door closed behind him, and I focused on scrubbing down my counter. I would not cry over this. I would not cry over Harlan fucking Royce. I wished so badly in that moment that I could go back to hating him, really hating him, so this would be a relief rather than a disappointment.
The door to the hall opened again, and it took every bit of strength in me to keep from looking up. I couldn’t let him see the hope in my eyes when he probably just dropped his keys or something.
“They’re not here.” Harlan walked my way steadily.
“What?”
“Theyare not here,” he repeated, discarding his jacket and helmet.
“Who?” I stammered. I hadn’t moved from my spot, but my hands started to shake against the counter.
“Work’s not here. The team’s not here. Your son is not here.”
“Right,” I said, trying to get him to elaborate.
“Did you mean it?” He was almost to my station now, just a handful of paces away with those midnight blue eyes trained on me. “You want this? You want me?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Then I don’t know what we’re waiting for.” Harlan rounded my counter and stepped into me.
I opened my mouth to ask more stupid, foolish, meaningless questions when he slung an arm around my shoulder and put his opposite thumb on my cheek. He curled himself around me, accommodating how I was too stunned to fully face him.
He wanted me. As I was, stunned or not stunned.
One adoring look swept over my face before his eyes fixed on my lips and his mouth came crashing down onto mine.
Harlan Royce was kissing me.
All I could think was how much he’d mock me for how cliché my thoughts were, and how that made me want him that much more. Time stopped. The world slowed. I found renewed purpose in his lips. He tasted like all my dreams come true.
But it was all true.
I twisted my body to be flush with his and raised on my toes, whimpering pathetically as I chased after him.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. He was pulling me closer, tucking me tighter, kissing me harder, nipping my lip and dipping his tongue in for more. Sighs into open mouths as our tongues tangled, fumbling for the bottom of his chef’s coat so I could find skin, because I couldn’t bear another moment of separation from him.
“I hated it,” he gasped as he licked down my neck and sucked the hollow of my throat. “I hated that you didn’t kiss me last time. I was so fucking mad at you.”
I was shocked by his admission, by any vulnerability from him regarding me. We spent so much time antagonizing each other that the realization that he did actually feel something real for me was a bucket of cold water to the face.
I didn’t know how to play it. Bickering was what I knew best with him, our safe, messed up game. I slipped the buttons of his white chef’s coat and ran my nails down his chest to his hiss. “Doesn’t seem like you stayed mad.”
An evil smirk curved his lips as his eyes went drowsy. He pressed into me harder, my back digging into the countertop and his erection trapped down the leg of his jeans. “Nah. I have plenty of creative ways to get you back.”
“Is that what made you come?” I panted. “All the things I didn’t give you? Or thoughts of revenge?”
He smirked and shook his head. “No. I got off on giving my princess every little thing she needs.” His hand snaked under my coat and into my bra, thumb and finger plucking my nipple until I sat forward. “On drawing you out and making you wet. Knowing you’d come on my tongue. Hearing you say my name in so many different ways. Knowing you crave me even when you pretend you don’t. That’s what got me off.”
