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He reached for the fork and scooped up a little bit of everything into one bite. She watched him intently as he shoveled it in past his lips. He chewed, and the flavor exploded into his mouth, the spice enough to tease the taste buds but not overwhelm.
She stared at him with huge eyes, and he loved that excited look she gave as much as he found her passion captivating. “Christ, that’s delicious,” he told her, knowing even if it wasn’t good, he’d never say. But her food was so damn incredible he didn’t understand how she did what she did. He scooped up another bite. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, you are wasting your talents by being here.”
“Shh,” she said, stepping closer. “We don’t want Antonio hearing that. He’ll cut out your tongue.”
Chase chuckled. “Now that I would hate to lose. I’m rather fond of my tongue and what I can do with it.”
Her breath hitched and her lips parted, inviting him for so much. “Yes, I suppose that would be a shame.”
He finished his bite, watching her mouth. Unable to ever look away from her pouty lips. He wanted them on his. He wanted them open, releasing her moans. He wanted to watch them pleasuring him. “And what about the sweet you promised me?” he murmured.
She nibbled her bottom lip before she inhaled deeply and turned away. When she returned, she placed a small plate down. “Roasted pears with espresso mascarpone cream.”
He slowly looked into her heated eyes again. “Delicious, I’m sure.” And hell yeah, he meant her too.
She quickly looked away, her hands trembling slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. He understood why. This intense need and hunger drove him equally as crazy. He could only imagine how sweet those lips tasted. How incredible her pretty eyes looked right before she came. Christ, he could even imagine her moans were as captivating as the rest of her.
If it were up to him, he would have had her months ago.
Problem was, it wasn’t only up to him.
When her eyes slowly lifted to his again, he fought against the heat filling his groin. Heat he wanted to unleash and set free until she was melting beneath him and screaming his name up. Something he knew showed in his expression by the quickening of her breath.
Her eyes suddenly flicked down and grew wide. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
He followed her gaze, discovering what concerned he
r. Blood dripped from his hand, landing on the table. “Shit. Sorry.” The error he’d made with a saw an hour ago had annoyed him then, and now even more so. He had thought the bleeding had stopped. He accepted the napkins she offered him, wrapping them around the small laceration on his index finger, and explained, “I had a small accident earlier.”
“A small accident?” Harper peeled back the napkins, examining the laceration. “By the look of it, you need stiches.”
“It’s fine.”
She snorted and gave him a knowing look. “Actually, it’s not fine at all. Come on, there’s a first aid kit in the stockroom.”
Adamant not to move an inch, he shook his head and reached for his fork to try the dessert. “Nah, I’m good.” What he needed was this meal and a little time with Harper. Those two things always seemed to right his world. Today had been a long, exhausting day on the construction site, which had been the reason for the rookie mistake with the saw.
Her hands went to her hips. “Chase Blackshaw, I don’t even want to hear it. You are bleeding all over the kitchen. First, that’s really gross and unsanitary for the other customers. Second, stop being a big baby and follow me.”
A loud laugh filled the kitchen.
Chase glanced up to find Antonio now watching them. His headphones were out of his ears and resting around his neck. Chase rose from his stool and grinned at Antonio. “Careful. I’ve got the saw that did this to my hand in my truck.”
Antonio, with his dark eyes and even darker spiked hair, burst out laughing. “I’d like to see you try, Blackshaw.”
Chase snorted a laugh at the man he knew from high school and followed Harper into a small office. She pointed him inside. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took the client’s chair while she left the room.
When Harper returned to him a minute later, she carried a first aid kit. “I’m not even sure this will work. The cut looks deep. But I suppose this is better than nothing.” She took a seat at the desk and pulled out sterilized wound closure strips from the first aid kit and began cutting them. After she cut the second strip to size, she gave him a quick look. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
With gentle fingers, she took the napkins away, placing them beneath his hand to catch the blood. “Are you sure?”
He frowned. “It’s a cut, Harper, that’s all. I’m fine.”
She hesitated before her eyes flicked to his briefly. “You look tired.”
