Page 53 of Black and Brown

Grace ducked his head and focused on drizzling the dressing over their salad.

“Your smile is bright enough to rival the stars, Grace,” Mirage whispered.

“Jesus.” Grace sighed, sounding embarrassed and mortified at the same time.

“All right, gorgeous, on a lighter note, tell me when you learned to cook like this?”

Grace’s Adam’s apple dipped almost down his throat as if he was relieved Mirage didn’t continue commenting on his slipup by literally laughing out loud.

“When we’d come home on break, I’d spend a lot of time in here bullshitting around with different recipes.” Grace looked at him with vulnerability in his eyes. “Besides your touch on my back, Mirage, cooking is the only thing that mutes the torture that was done to my mind.”

How the hell was Mirage supposed to respond to that?

Grace joined him at the island, the air charged with what was sure to come after dinner as they ate in comfortable silence.

Mirage

Dinner was five-star restaurant quality.

Mirage was so turned on he’d had to escape to the bathroom after Grace stood and began to clear the dishes.

The domestic shit had Mirage’s mind twisted.

Grace was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, no matter how many pieces he put together.

Mirage washed his hands, splashed water on his heated face, and then gargled some mouthwash to rid the taste of garlic and shrimp lingering on his tongue.

Nerves swam like minnows in the pit of his stomach, aggressive and erratic, but it didn’t overshadow the intense throbbing in his groin.

Mirage had fought his urges and needs for so damn long, and every day that he painfully craved his partner, he wished he’d never altered his serums.

Mirage was aroused to the point that he wanted to go out there, throw Grace on the couch, and rub against him until he was sated and no longer aching.

When he left the bathroom, everything was returned to its place in the kitchen, and the island was spotless, with a bowl of fruit sitting in the center.

The rest of the apartment was dark except for a low-watt bulb over the stove and the golden lights encased in the wet bar in the living room.

That was where he found Grace. At the window, his shadowy gaze scanned the cityscape. He had a snifter of brandy in his left hand and his right propped against the glass.

Mirage approached him, his heart pounding but his gait easy and smooth. An invisible thread pulled him closer until he was where he belonged.

Covered by Grace’s sweet-scented darkness, Mirage pressed his chest against Grace’s back.

Their unique connection was dramatic but always comfortable.

He cleared his throat. “Dinner was amazing. Thank you.”

“Mm,” Grace answered, taking another sip of his drink.

Mirage pressed closer, wanting Grace to feel the deep pulsing in his heart and the emotions pouring from it.

Feelings he’d never lost because he hadn’t been willing to allow them to be stolen.

He only wished he could’ve altered Grace’s serums as well. But he’d taken a big enough risk with diluting his own.

Mirage eased one arm under Grace’s and wrapped it around his waist.

His sudden breath wasn’t audible, but Mirage felt it.