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“Try this,” I said, picking up a deviled egg. “I shave truffles over them and whip in truffle oil with the mixture.
He raised an eyebrow, taking the egg from me and eating it in one bite. He nodded his approval. “Damn.” He licked a little remnant from his thumb, and I tried not to imagine my own finger in its place. There was that look on his face again. He frowned, running his thumb across his bottom lip.
“What’s that look?”
“Hm? It’s nothing. Just a stupid idea.”
“Well, want to try anything else?”
I’d meant on the table, but his eyes lingered on me in a way that made heat blossom from my core. It felt like I forgot how to breathe, and I might’ve simply passed out if he hadn’t finally looked back to the table and picked up a skewer of chicken and vegetables. “This looks good,” he said.
I tried to discreetly gasp for air and nodded. “I use sweet chili and honey for those. Little spritzes of apple juice while they cook, too.”
The traffic at my table was picking up, and I could sense people waiting to ask me questions or for help. I chewed my bottom lip. I felt the urge to get away from everyone and go back inside with Greyson. “I should probably check on my cookies,” I said, gesturing toward the bakery.
I took an experimental step in the direction of the bakery and was relieved when Greyson moved to follow me.
We stepped inside and the door gently closed behind us. “They’re just over here,” I said, feeling awkward and amped up at the same time.
He still followed, wordless but full of an unspoken, dark energy. I could practically feel it buzzing through the air between us like a static charge.
I kept my back to him, opening the oven and slipping the tray of cookies out. They were a little undercooked, but I pretended they were fine and set them on the counter. “Want to try one?” I asked.
I turned and looked up at him. The air drained from my lungs when our eyes met. I picked up one of the cookies, ignoring the slight burn against my fingers as I lifted it toward him.
“Shouldn’t the chef taste her work?” he asked. Every syllable was laced with dirty intentions, and all I could do was swallow and nod.
He took the cookie from my hands and raised it to my mouth, his eyes intent on my lips. I slowly opened my mouth and took a small bite. I swiped my tongue across my lips to clear the crumbs and nodded. “It’s good.”
Greyson bit from the same cookie, and the innocent act of sharing the sweet felt far dirtier than it should have. I gulped audibly, unable to tear my eyes from his.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s fucking delicious.”
Before I knew what was happening, his body was pressed to mine, and my back bumped against the still warm ovens. His mouth was on mine. Claiming mine.
I gasped into his mouth, kissing him back. My hands went to his sides and then across his broad back.
It felt like the room was closing in around me–like every drop of my focus was centered on the space between us and the warm friction of his lips against mine. His tongue swiped across my lips, and I moaned against him, drinking in the perfection of his kisses. I could taste the sweetness of the cookie between us.
And then he pulled back suddenly. His eyes were wild, and his mouth was hanging open–lips still wet from my tongue. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I was too stunned to speak. He took two steps toward the door, paused, and then picked up the cookie and took a bite. He flashed that boyish smile at me. “This really is delicious.”
The next thing I knew, the bell over the door was ringing and I was alone in the shop, still gasping for breath. Holy. Shit. What the hell was that?
Before I could even gather my thoughts, Lin and Farrah came barging in with wide eyes.
“Tell us everything,” Lin said.
“Yeah,” Farrah agreed. “He came out of here like a bat out of hell. What happened?”
“He fed me a bite of my own cookie, then he bit it, and then he pushed me up against the ovens and kissed me.” My voice was flat and distant.
Farrah and Lin didn’t respond immediately. They just shared a stunned look.
“You’re serious?” Lin finally asked.
I nodded.
“What the fuck?” Farrah whispered.
“What in the actual fuck,” Lin agreed.
I finally smiled and leaned my rear against the counter. I lifted a finger to touch my lips, as if making sure they were still there. “He kissed me,” I repeated.
“And then what?”
“He apologized, took a cookie, and left.”
They both stared.
“So what happens now?” Lin asked.
“That’s a really good question,” I said.
