Page 80 of Slow Burn

He let out an annoyed breath.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Georgia asked after she dug into her spaghetti and meatballs. And, yes, she was a glutton for punishment because she skipped the garlic bread just in case they kissed.

“I’m not winning a Michelin star or anything. At work, we all rotate on who brings meals to the station, so I know how to make a few things.”

“What else can you make?”

Elijah wiped his mouth with his napkin. “For work, I cook easy things like casseroles and stuff.”

“But this isn’t work.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He shook his head. “For you, Peach. I’d make you whatever you wanted.”

She smiled while she sipped her drink. “Maybe next time you’ll do surf and turf?”

“As long as you don’t care if it’s not perfect.”

“Perfection is overrated.”

“Agreed.” Elijah’s hand rested on her thigh as he leaned back in his chair.

Just one touch, and her body tingled.

“I’m glad you decided for us to eat outside. The summer is almost over, and I swear, I’ve barely enjoyed it.”

His eyes darkened with lust. “I can think of something you enjoyed this summer.”

“What makes you think that?” She teased, loving any reaction she got out of him.

Elijah’s grasp on her leg tightened. “Is this something friends should talk about?”

No, she was not letting him shove her into the friend zone again. She didn’t skip garlic bread for nothing, and she wanted more from him. “I don’t want to be friends.”

“What do you want?” he asked, his hand moving from her leg to his glass of wine, taking a generous gulp.

“I want you.” Georgia was throwing it all out there. She’d deal with the repercussions from his rejection she was sure she’d get later. “Elijah, we’re good together. I want to explore where this can go.”

If she had a cuff to take his blood pressure, it had to be through the roof. He sat still with his jaw clenched and his left eye twitched. Honestly, part of her was close to saying screw it, and maybe they could be friends, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

Georgia wasn’t ready to give up on Elijah.

She’d wait him out. While he sat there dumbfounded, she curled her legs under her and took another bite of the meatball.

“Could we go slow?” Elijah conceded.

“I’m not asking you to propose tomorrow,” she told him. Though if he did, she knew she’d say yes. Without a doubt. Something about their connection made her feel like they could get through anything together.

As if they were made for each other.

Sparks overfilled their cup.

“I need slow. Casual and slow,” he repeated. “Can you handle low-key for a bit, and see where this goes?”

Georgia smiled despite the proverbial knife slicing into her heart. But this was new, and he was right to ask to take it slow. “I can, and I know you said you want to go slow, but does that mean checking things off my list is put on hold?”

“Not that slow,” Elijah said. “Are you done?”

She didn’t even get to respond before he was pulling her out of the chair and dragging her into the house.