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I fought the tears in my eyes. I never spoke of home, or memories. It was too painful. The way Nic was gazing into my eyes scared me and thrilled me all at once.
“I want to kiss you, Gabi. I’ve wanted to since the moment you smiled at me.”
My breath caught. I realized I desperately wanted the same thing he wanted. The spark I felt in my chest was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Suddenly, everything else faded into the background and all that mattered was this man standing before me.
He leaned in closer. We were inches away from each other. My heart picked up its rhythm in my chest. I was sure it would burst out any second.
“May I kiss you?”
My mouth parted, giving him the silent invite he was looking for. He stopped just short of my mouth. Waiting for me to give him permission.
I was frozen and completely unable to speak. The air around us was charged liked I’d never experienced before. I said the only thing I could manage to say. His name off my lips sounded like a whisper on a breeze.
“Nic.”
The moment his lips touched mine, I felt the spark. Beautiful, intense, magical. It was the only way I could describe the feeling of Nic kissing me.
Softly and gently he moved. When his tongue asked for permission, I granted it to him without hesitation. The kiss deepened and Nic pulled my body against his.
An explosive fire ripped through my body. All I could do was moan. Nic’s hand moved around my waist, pulling me to him so I could feel how much the kiss was affecting him as well.
Then it happened.
Music came blaring from Charity’s room.
She. Did. Not.
Nic pulled back and looked at me with his brows pinched together. “What in the hell is she playing?”
I rolled my eyes. “Olivia Newton-John. The song’s called “Magic”.”
The corners of Nic’s mouth rose into a beautiful smile that had my knees shaking.
“I’d say she hit that spot on.”
Matching his smile, I giggled. “I’d say.”
Nic took a step back as his eyes gazed into mine. His smile slowly faded. The confusion in his eyes was hard to miss. I was pretty positive I had the same look in mine.
WHAT IN THE hell was that?
Staring into those beautiful blue eyes, I couldn’t figure out what was happening. My heart was on the damn floor the moment she moaned into my mouth. Then she opened up to me and I was overcome with a euphoria I’d never experienced before.
“Your world will feel like it’s been turned inside out.”
Fuck that. There is no way. I needed to break this weird connection we were sharing. I was in uncharted territory and not sure how I felt about it.
I turned back to the food. “Are we frying or baking the chicken?”
Gabi stood there for a second, her forehead creased in confusion. We’d just shared the most incredible kiss of my life and I totally blew it off.
“Um, I bake mine. Healthier and all.”
“That sounds perfect.”
She moved to open a cabinet where she pulled out a baking sheet. “Just put them on here after you coat them in the breading.”
Somehow I needed to get things back on track and easy like a few minutes ago. We were talking as if we’d known each other for years then I fucked it up with kissing her. Damn if I didn’t need to feel those lips. Taste her.
“Have you always wanted to own a bakery?”
Her face lit up. There we go. My dick-move forgotten.
“Yes. For as long as I can remember.”
“What do your parents do?”
She tensed. That was twice now she reacted that way when I asked about her past.
“Um, they passed away when I was in high school.”
I frowned. “You said your dad gave you your grandmother’s recipes at your graduation.”
A panicked expression moved over her face.
“They passed away in a car accident a few days after I graduated.”
“I’m so sorry, Gabi.”
She shrugged. “Thank you.”
“Did they own a bakery?”
She shook her head. “No, they owned a restaurant in Italy that my uncle owns now.”
I lifted my brow. “Really? Wow. Were you born in Italy?”
Gabi chewed on her lip. Talking about her family seemed to be a sore subject. “No,” she said with a chuckle. “My parents moved to America after they got married. They had the restaurant before they moved.”
I couldn’t help but notice she failed to mention where she grew up. Although the cop in me could tell she was hiding something, I let it go.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”
Again, her face beamed with happiness. “It’s beautiful there.”
“How many times have you been?”
“Dozens!” she said with a light laugh. “We have a lot of distant family still in Italy. I haven’t been in about seven years though. I was actually planning a trip to go in a few months. If everything works out.”
