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She wrinkles her brow. “Really? That’s a thing?”
Artem shrugs. “You spend enough money and all the world’sno’ssuddenly turn toyes’s.”
She sits back in her chair sipping her champagne, considering Artem’s words. Surely, she knows this is how the world works, given the business she’s in.
But that doesn’t matter, and if I have my way, I’ll keep her innocent, just like she is, indefinitely. Although hanging out with us has probably put a time limit on her naiveté.
I reach for her hand, which she tentatively gives me. “I could use some help in the kitchen. Are you game?” I ask.
Her eyes open wide. “Sure. Yeah. I love cooking.”
“Well, come with me then,” I say, leading the way.
A chef brought most of our Christmas meal, so there isn’t much for us to do, but what little there is left, like heating things up, I want Lily’s help with.
“This is incredible,” she breathes, looking around in awe at our state-of-the-art chef’s kitchen.
Artem had insisted on it when we got the place. He’s the primary cook of the three of us. In fact, it’s probably just a matter of minutes until he joins us in the kitchen to make sure we aren’t screwing up the chef’s creations.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” I say. Almost nice enough to make me forget the pressures of my work.
But nothing can make that completely go away.
Except for maybe some female company.
“Okay, Lily. Here is your task. Chef made these pie crusts, so we just need to put the apples in them and the crust on top.”
Her face brightens and life feels almost normal for a second. “Great. Do you have a peeler?” she asks, rolling up the sleeves of her silk blouse.
I toss her an apron and we get down to business. It’s strangely domestic considering… everything, but also nice to get my head out of the world I usually live in.
And while Lily works away, I’m mostly pretending to be industrious to have the chance to watch her. She bites her lips in concentration, ensuring every last piece of apple skin is gone from the fruit, then cutting the slices in perfect, uniform sizes. It’s funny to see someone take so much care with something so mundane.
Amazing too. I’m so immersed in the crazy world the guys and I exist in that I forget women like Lily even exist. And as she peels and peels, small red tendrils of hair slip from the messy bunching at the back of her neck, clinging to her slightly sweaty skin.
Holy fuck, I’m hard.
As per Chef’s instruction, Lily adds sugar and cinnamon, then loads it all into the pie dish. Her hands are covered with pie goop, and goddamn, I want a taste.
She pinches the corners of the crust closed and dessert is ready for the oven. But before she can do anything else, I take her wrists.
Actually, it’s more like I seize them.
She gasps, her fear of the night before returning to her face.
And this makes me even harder.
Yeah, I’m a dick that way.
“Look how messy your hands are, pretty girl,” I say, looking between her wide blue eyes and her coated hands. “We can’t let you mess up your new clothes now, can we?”
She realizes I’m playing, and her shoulders drop. “You’re right,” she flirts, “and I’d be brokenhearted if I did anything to this amazing outfit.”
I take a step closer. “I’m here to help, in any way I can,” I say quietly, taking her first finger into my mouth and cleaning it of the delicious apple pie concoction.
I take a finger from her other hand and do the same, and with a mouthful of sweetness bring my lips to her unadorned earlobe, making a mental note to pick up earrings to match her new bracelet.
She stiffens as I close my lips on her soft skin, so I pull back and look at her, really look at her. She’s biting her bottom lip as if to bleed off the pleasure I’m giving her, so I swipe my tongue across her mouth and step back.
