"Oh, yeah?" He takes a few steps toward me, until I’m crowded against one of the shelves holding jars of prepared stock.
Thankfully, the shelf is sturdy. And there’s enough space between the jars and the edge, so I’m not touching them.
He peers into my face. "Who owns the restaurant?"
"You do," I murmur.
"And who are you married to?"
"You."
His eyes flash. The heat in them goes straight to my heart. It’s like someone dumped a bucket-load of adrenaline into my bloodstream.
It’s clear he’s serious about leaving. And I want to go with him too. I want to be with him. I need to fill this aching void inside me. My skin feels too tight for me. My scalp feels itchy.
Even if we stay, I’m not going to be able to focus on the food preparation. I swallow. But that he suggested it still feels unreal.
"You’re James Hamilton. You’re a stickler for perfection. Your food. Your restaurant. It always comes first."
He thinks about it, then nods. "You’re right.”
"I am?" My heart sinks to my feet. I hadn’t realized how much I really wanted to leave with him. How much I’d hoped that, in this one instance, he’d put me before The Edge. That he’d put me first in his life…just for a few hours.
"Okay." I accept his words. Then begin to search the floor again. "Let me look for my hair tie and?—"
"I am everything you say I am, but I want to fuck my wife more."
For the second time in a few minutes, I jerk my chin in his direction.
His eyes are serious. His expression is set in lines of resolve indicating his mind is made up.
"Oh." Once again, I’m speechless. My brain cells seem to have short-circuited. He can’t possibly want to leave the restaurant in the middle of the day? That's a first.
"You don’t do things like this," I finally manage to say.
"Perhaps, I’ve changed?" He smooths down my chef coat, then brushes his knuckles over my mouth. "I can’t wait to have these wrapped around my cock."
A thousand little fires ignite in my bloodstream.
"James." I half laugh, half moan. "Please stop."
His gaze turns keen "You like it when I talk dirty."
"Considering, until a few weeks ago, all I got was a few grunts from you. Yeah, I love it when you talk dirty. But also, we need to get home first."
A troubled look comes into his eyes. "I’m sorry if you found me disagreeable. Those on my team need to win my trust. It didn't matter that you were Phe’s friend and someone I was unable to forget since we met." He takes my hand in his. "It’s not an excuse, but I hope it explains a little of why I'm so intense in the kitchen."
I gaze at him in shock. "And now, you’re apologizing to me." I reach up and place the back of my palm against his neck. "Are you running a temperature?"
His lips quirk in that half smile which is turning out to be my personal downfall. "Damn, you’re sassy, and that turns me on so fucking much."
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingertips.
"Come on, let’s face the hordes, then get out of here."
53
James
