Page 70 of Tastes Like Summer

Before going to greet him at the sliding door, I check my hair in the hallway mirror hoping I look halfway decent for our clandestine lunch meeting. Between work and not wanting the girls to find out about us yet, scheduling a date has proven much harder than either one of us thought it would be. Which is why Michael came up with this solution: I work, he cooks, we eat. It’s not a long walk on the beach beneath the stars or a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant, but it’s whatever we can do to make it work, and I love that. I love that we’re both fighting to figure out whatever this is. I love that, for once, I’m not the only one trying to make things work.

When he greets me at the door, my skin is electrified, buzzing with anticipation. We’re doing this—finally.

He greets me with a deep “Hey,” the sound of his voice reminding me of what we did last night over the phone. The way it felt like his words reached all the way down to my bones; the way they seemed to become part of my makeup for that moment in time. Without hesitation, he leans down to press a kiss on my cheek in greeting. “I had fun last night,” he murmurs in my ear.

My lungs paralyzed, I lose all ability to breathe. Ironic, given how much he made me pant with just his words, my phone pressed to my ear, as he commanded me to imagine my fingers as his, as he begged me to come for me, baby. Imagine it’s me fucking you and come.

And I did, biting down on my lip so I didn’t moan his name into the darkness of my bedroom after letting myself go.

“Hey,” I say back, knowing that he’s remembering the same thing I am. Sure, we haven’t been able to be alone, but it’s only a matter of time, and the knowledge that we’ll eventually get to have a repeat of that stormy night is everything.

“You ready for our date?” he whispers.

I run my fingers through my hair, an intense blush creeping up my neck. “Yes, more than ready.” I wrap my arms around his neck and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I blocked off some extra time for lunch, too, so I should have more than my usual thirty minutes.”

“Perfect,” he says with the press of a kiss on my nose. “Go sit down and wrap up work while I make us something amazing.”

With a goofy grin, I walk back to the kitchen table where my work is neatly spread out. He helps me scoot in my chair and brings me a cold glass of water. When he sets it by my computer, he drops his head to my neck from behind, placing a kiss on the delicate skin behind my ear. His hands briefly rub my shoulders, though there’s no need for that—he’s successfully melted me into a pile of goo with one kiss. “If you need anything, I’ll be right over there,” he whispers in my ear.

Heat spreads like wildfire all over my body and, for the first time ever, I resent my work. What I once revered and had prayed for so many nights is now keeping me from jumping back in bed and losing myself in him. When I turn in my seat to kiss him, I throw every last bit of myself into it, but I feel his lips curve up in a grin right as he pulls away before letting it get too wild.

“You need to work and I need to cook.”

My face falls into a pout and he laughs.

“Seriously, get back to work. I’m here to serve you, remember? I’m your own personal, private chef. You should be completely ignoring my presence.”

“I think it’s kind of hard to ignore your presence.”

He snorts as he begins to unload the groceries onto the kitchen counter. “Flattery? Wow. You must be really hungry and desperate for lunch.”

I laugh, marveling at how easy this all feels, at how far away we seem to be from those days where we merely tolerated each other for our daughters’ sake. “Oh, I feel a little desperate, but it’s not for whatever incredible meal I’m sure you’ll prepare.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Get back to work, you. I’m here to satiate real hunger. Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll satiate the other kind that’s overtaken you after lunch.”

It’s not long until the delicious smells coming from the stove begin to distract me from my work. My stomach rumbles as I listen in on a conference call with our internal team, taking notes for my boss, while trying not to drool all over my keyboard. Through it all, Michael waits patiently, smiling across the kitchen at me every time I look over to check on how he’s doing. I worry whether he’ll start to resent my job for keeping me from paying attention to him now—I did tell him it was going to be a light day today, after all—but his mood never seems to shift. Michael is never far, always offering an encouraging smile.

“Just one more meeting and I’m done until after lunch, I promise. I just need to touch base with my boss about this case and the call I was just on.”

“Hey, I’m good. Don’t worry about me—this can wait. I can wait.”

And he does. Patiently so. He sets the place settings at the bar while I speak to Edgar, give him updates on the case.

When I’m finally done, I shut my laptop with a soft thud, pushing out of my chair, stretching my arms up in the air. Once I get to my feet, I feel a pair of muscular arms wrap around my waist, banding to pull my back against a hard chest. Michael’s lips trail from my jaw down my neck and up again as a chill skitters down my spine.

“You have no idea how sexy you sound on your meetings,” he growls in my ear. “It took everything in me not to ask you to turn off your camera and let me fuck you from behind while you were on them.”

My eyes roll back as I suppress a moan when he drags his tongue up my neck. “That… would’ve been… difficult to do.”

His teeth grab hold of my ear, his hips press his hard cock into my lower back. “We would’ve managed.”

“Managed to get me fired, more likely.” I try to joke, but the lack of oxygen to my brain makes it quite difficult to concentrate on anything other than the feel of him all around me, crowding me like an animal ready to eat its prey.

“Well, we can’t have that. I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to anyone ever in my life.” As he speaks, one of his hands travels from around my waist up my sternum, wrapping lightly around my neck.

“So let’s go into my bedroom and you can show me. Or better yet, let’s do the whole bent over the table thing. That sounds like fun.”

His laugh turns into a groan when he presses his face into my hair. He inhales deeply before admitting, “There’s nothing I would love to do more right now than fuck you, but I promised you a nice lunch, and that’s what you’re going to get. You’re going to need energy if you want to keep kicking ass at work like that.”