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His eyes roved all over my face. “Hi.”
I bent my head and brushed a kiss across his lips, making him sigh, and as his lips parted, I slid my tongue along his lower one. He was so pliant whenever I touched him. Whenever I put my mouth on him. And it only added to the strong pull I already had to him, making me want him all the more.
“Are you almost ready to go?” I asked, replacing my lips with my thumb. I gently grazed it over that plump lip, and he nodded.
“Yes.” He pulled his apron off, balled it up in his hand, and grinned. “It’s so nice to know I won’t be having to untie anything from around myself anytime soon.”
“Perhaps you should leave that up to me, then?” I said, and chuckled when his face turned red. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I have you for the entire night for a change; no early morning job to rush off to. Are you ready?”
Jesse’s eyes sparkled as he stared up at me, and any jealousy from earlier began to dissipate with all of the awe and adoration I could see in their blue depths.
Jesse wanted me. He craved me. And by the time I was done with him, Jesse would know only me.
“Yep, let’s go,” Jesse said, and I reached down to take his hand in mine.
Yes, let’s, I thought. Let’s go where no one else can follow.
17
“I hope you’re hungry,” Tor said, as we entered his penthouse a short time later. He keyed in the code, turning off the alarm we’d set off, and then headed straight for the kitchen, flipping on the light as he went.
“Starving,” I said, as Tor opened the refrigerator and began pulling out several dishes. He hadn’t told me anything about what to expect that evening. He’d only said we’d be celebrating, so when he’d pulled up at his building, I was surprised. “Are we cooking?”
Tor set a cutting board on the granite countertop and then pulled out a large knife. As he began to sharpen the blade, he said, “I’m cooking, yes.”
“Ah, so this is a solo activity, then?” I sidled up next to him and looked over the items he’d pulled out. Some kind of steak marinating, potatoes, and ingredients for a salad. My stomach growled.
“You’ve had a long day, so I thought I’d take care of you tonight.”
My heart melted, and I didn’t bother hiding my smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tor pointed his knife at the barstool closest to us. “Sit.”
“That hardly seems fair to make you do all the work while I watch.”
“On the contrary; it’s entirely selfish.” Tor set down the knife and took my chin between his fingers. “I want you where I can touch you,” he said against my lips, before crushing my mouth to his in a kiss that brooked no argument. Those damn butterflies unleashed in my stomach again, and when Tor pulled away and swatted me on the ass, I took my place on the barstool without complaint.
If he wanted to cook for me, I would never put up a fight. Seeing Tor slicing potatoes like he’d done it a few hundred times before showed me a different side of the man I found myself falling for more with every day that passed. He was such an intimidating presence that watching him roll up his sleeves and do something so…normal proved to me that even though he said he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, his actions were showing me otherwise.
“Thank you,” I said, and his dark eyes looked up at me.
“For?”
I gestured at the spread before me. “I’ve never had someone make dinner for me before. This is…nice.”
A wry grin crossed Tor’s face as he went back to slicing potatoes. “Nice,” he repeated. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term. Perhaps you can give me a demonstration after dinner.”
“I have to show you my thanks somehow, right?” I said it in a teasing way, but I was dead serious. I barely recognized the insatiable creature inside me, the one who wanted his hands and mouth on every part of Tor he could get.
Tor seemed to grasp my meaning, because a low hum sounded in the back of his throat. That sexy growl was all for me. Somehow, he found me attractive, and though I didn’t understand it, because a man like him could have anyone he wanted, I craved the knowledge that I was the one to make him hard.
My dick was leaping to attention, and I shifted uncomfortably on the seat as I changed the subject to something that wouldn’t have me coming in my pants. “What are we having?”
“Chef’s salad, Black Diamond-style steak marinade, and herb-roasted fingerling potatoes.”
“Mmm, sounds delicious,” I said, my lips twisting. “Especially that part about fingering.”
