Page 27 of Full Throttle

“You gonna let me in, woman?” he growled.

Laughing, I flipped the lock and opened the door, stepping back and bracing myself. Still, the sight of him made me inhale quickly.

He wore his usual jeans and leather jacket. A blue T-shirt stretched across his chest. He carried a bag and a bouquet of flowers. His Doc Martens were dusty, his jeans tight, and his expression intense. Yet his eyes were soft as they met mine. His gaze was focused on me and me alone. He stopped in front of me, swooping down without a word and capturing my mouth. His kiss was powerful. Drugging. I whimpered into his mouth as he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. I felt the scrape of his scruff along my jaw. The fullness of his lips on mine. His minty fresh taste. His manly scent that wrapped around me as tight as his embrace. His long exhale of air, as if he’d been waiting to breathe until he kissed me. As if he couldn’t live without doing so.

He pulled back, cupping my face. “Hello, Cherry G.”

“Hi,” I replied, breathless. “I-I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I told you I’d see you this week. Chase mentioned Hannah said you had today off. I thought I’d give you a break and come make you dinner.” He winked as he strode past me. “And these flowers are for you.” He deposited the large bouquet in my arms.

“You cook?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course I do. I’m a single guy. I can’t survive on takeout.”

He took off his jacket, the muscles in his arms rippling, making his tattoos stand out. “I hope you like steak, Cherry G, because that’s what’s on the menu.”

“I do.”

“Great. Now, shut the door and come sit down. Tell me about your day.”

I watched Dom move around with the confidence of a man used to being in the kitchen. He located the wineglasses and corkscrew and poured us each a glass of wine, then got busy, rubbing spices into two thick steaks, prepping potatoes, and, with another wink, pouring a salad into a bowl. “I cook,” he said with a grin. “But it’s simple. I use a lot of shortcuts.”

“Still beats takeout every day.”

He nodded. “It gets tiresome after a while. I enjoy a meal out, the occasional pizza or Chinese in, but I like good, homemade food. I taught myself the basics.”

I set the table, easing around him as he moved. He was in control and smooth as he worked. He turned as I sidled past, pulling me close and kissing my neck. “You smell so good,” he murmured. “Right here, especially,” he added, nosing my collar out of the way.

I shivered. “You’re supposed to be cooking.”

“Oh, baby, believe me, I am.” He bit down playfully. “I’m boiling up for you.”

I laughed at his cheesy remark, but for some reason, I wound my arms around his waist and held him tight. He tossed the utensil in his hand to the counter and spun me in his arms, humming in my ear. We danced around my small kitchen, holding each other, him humming, me smiling. It was ridiculous—and fun.

Then he twirled me away and shook his head, muttering about distractions. Without thinking, I reached out and cupped his cheek, stroking the skin. “I like being your distraction,” I whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

His eyes crinkled in delight, and he turned his head, kissing my palm. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

Not long after, we sat down to eat. I had added a candle, and he lit it, turning the kitchen lights down low. He had music playing on his phone, and we talked as we ate, me complimenting him on his dinner. The steak was tender and delicious, the baked potatoes fluffy and overflowing with butter and sour cream. Even the salad was tasty.

“I don’t remember the last time someone cooked for me, aside from Hannah,” I murmured, looking at my plate. “And usually, those meals are a joint collaboration.”

He sliced off a piece of steak, holding his fork to my mouth. “Open, Cherry G. Let me feed you.”

My lips parted, and he slipped the steak in, cutting himself a larger piece and chewing. I closed my eyes as the flavors of the meat, the butter, garlic, and rosemary he’d basted the steak with, burst on my taste buds.

“Oh God. So good.”

He grinned. “I guess you’ll keep me around then, huh?”

I tried to hide my returning smile as I cut into my own steak. Teasingly, I held out my fork. “Do I get to feed you, Dom?”

With a low growl, he leaned in, gripping the back of my neck and pulling my face close. He kissed me hard. Deep. Then he pulled back, his chest working hard.

“You already do, Cherry G. You already do.”

I had no words to respond to him. With a wink, he gripped my wrist then closed his lips around my fork, taking the piece of steak I offered. His voice was rough and low when he spoke.