“Garlic?” he guesses.
I smirk. “Obviously. Try harder.”
“Wine?”
“Warmer.”
“Red pepper flakes.”
I shake my head. “You’re terrible at this.”
His eyes narrow, but there’s a spark there now—playful, dangerous. He presses in until my hips are flush with the counter, his chest brushing mine. Then he leans in, close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath against my neck.
“Last chance,” he murmurs before kissing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear.
I suck in a breath, but keep my voice steady. “Still not telling you.”
He moves to the other side, lips grazing my jaw this time. “What if I wear you down?”
“You’d have to try harder than that,” I whisper, though my hands have already found the edge of his shirt. Trailing under to touch his skin.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, our mouths so close they could touch if one of us so much as blinked wrong. His voice drops. “Can I kiss you again?”
The question catches me off guard—not just the words, but the way he says them. Careful. Like he’s asking for something fragile.
I nod, and he starts to close the distance—then pauses, lips hovering. “Can we make that an open authorization? Saves me having to ask every time?—”
“Just kiss me, Jaxon.”
His grin turns wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”
The kiss is instant heat, deep and hungry. His hands find my ribs, mine slide under his shirt, and then we’re not just kissing—we’re devouring. Tongues, moans, the press of his body into mine like he’s been starving for this.
Something hisses behind me, sharp and angry, and I jerk back.
“Shit—!”
I push him away, spinning to the stove where the pot is boiling over. I grab the box of pasta and dump the noodles in, steam rushing up into my face.
Behind me, Jaxon’s voice is pure amusement. “So the secret ingredient is… neglect? Just let everything boil over until it develops ‘flavor’?”
“Says the man who flambés eggs.” I shoot him a look over my shoulder. “And for the record, you’re never getting the secret ingredient out of me.”
He starts pulling plates and silverware from the cabinets, still smirking. “You know, I can figure out the world’s most difficult schematics in seconds… but this? This is apparently beyond me.”
“Maybe she just loves me more than you,” I say, tossing the pasta once for emphasis.
He comes up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, his lips brushing my neck. “That wouldn’t be hard.”
I bite down that jolt that runs through my stomach.He’s not mine.
Dinner ends up being exactly what I needed—the perfect antidote to the mood Jonathan left me in earlier. Between the simmering sauce, the warmth of the bread, and Jaxon’s easy grin across the table, I almost forget about my brother entirely.
Almost.
“Tell the truth,” I say, narrowing my eyes over my fork, taking my last bite. “You tightened all the jars in the fridge on purpose. Didn’t you?”
He doesn’t even try to look innocent. “Or maybe I just don’t know my own strength.” His mouth tilts into a smug grin. “And you should talk—assaulting people with refrigerator doors.”
