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“Do you have stuff for baking? Like pans and ingredients?”
“Oh. You actually mean you’ll bake me dessert?” Raf sits up and laughs. “It wasn’t a euphemism for something else.”
“Yes,” I laugh. “I actually want to bake dessert for you.” I rub my foot lightly against his leg. “As for the something else…we’ll see.” I smile and sit back in my chair, taking the last sip of my wine.
I make Raf stop at the Whole Foods on South Street on the way to his place. I grab a basket and start quizzing him on what he likes and what he’s got on hand at home. He’s already got most of what I need. I wouldn’t expect the usual single man to stock them. But he assures me he’s got enough eggs, butter, flour, sugar, and salt for anything we’ll want to make. I’ve decided to make chocolate profiteroles. He says he’s got vanilla and cinnamon. But no chocolate or ice cream. Figures. Raf’s got the kind of body that comes from not keeping sweets in his house. I can fix that. The lack of sweets that is.
We pick up dark cocoa, dark chocolate, and a couple of pints of chocolate ice cream. Going through Whole Foods with Raf is fun. It’s kind of surreal, but comfortable, too. When one of your first impressions of someone is them getting stabbed, the domestic activities like grocery shopping seem totally exotic. He looks cute carrying the basket around for me and packing the items in a small paper bag.
It only takes us about five minutes to get to Raf’s house. Or I should saypalace. He pulls into a garage off a small side street near I-95 and the Delaware River. At first it looks like we’re just pulling into a tall brick row house. We park behind two cars that are already in the long, narrow garage. He walks me past the other cars, through a pair of double doors and into the house. This is just one section. It looks like the entire corner of this block belongs to Raf.
“How big is this place?”
“Just four bedrooms.” Raf grins at me. “About seven thousand square feet altogether.” He leads me through a beautiful foyer lit by a sculptural chandelier and up the staircase. At the top of the stairs, we turn and come to an open dining room and kitchen.
“Wow.” I cross the room and gaze out the windows. Raf puts the bag of groceries on the kitchen island and opens the French doors to a furnished terrace, inviting me out.
We look out over a small walled in yard. It feels like an elegant fortress with a brick wall surrounding its borders. It’s quieter than I expected. “This is really nice.”
“It’s my little compound. My sanctuary.” Raf looks out at it, and I can tell this place brings him a calm that he probably needs. I get the sense he doesn’t bring many people here. I feel fortunate to be one of them.
I want to kiss him, but I don’t want the ice cream to melt. “Should we start on dessert?”
“We? I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’m alright with cooking. But I haven’t baked much.”
“You’ll be alright. I’ll show you what to do.”
Much like the other parts of the house I’ve seen, Raf’s kitchen is beautifully detailed and spotlessly clean. Professional gas range and double ovens. Any chef would be happy to have it. I pre-heat the oven while Raf pulls out bowls, pans, trays, and the ingredients he already had. He also takes out two aprons, placing one around my neck and then tying it around my waist before he puts one on himself. It’s sexy as hell. I love that he respects something I’m passionate about, but standing this close to him almost makes me forget what I’m doing.
I start the choux pastry in a saucepan over the stovetop. I give Raf directions to melt the chocolate and mix in milk and cocoa. It’s simple but he follows along and pays attention. I like the focused look on his face as he stirs the chocolate, keeping an eye on its progress. I mix in the eggs and finish the batter as Raf stirs the vanilla into his chocolate sauce and then sets it aside. Together we scoop a couple dozen dough balls onto the baking sheets, give them a final brush with egg and pop them into the oven to bake.
“Alright. 15 minutes, then we check on them.” I set the timer on the oven.
“Wine for the chefs?” Raf removes a bottle from the small wine fridge under the counter and grabs a couple of glasses. I follow him back out onto the terrace and we sit at the small table. The cool evening air and the chilled wine are refreshing after being in the warm kitchen.
“So.” Raf sets down his glass and looks at me. “How did I do? Do I have a future as a baker?”
“Hm.” I swirl my wine while putting on a pensive face. “You did well so far. The real test will be in the tasting.”
When the oven timer beeps, I hop up. Raf is about to get up as well, but I put my hand on his shoulder as I pass him, letting him know I’ll handle it. I check the profiteroles and turn the oven temperature down, then reset the timer.
“Halfway done.” I run my hand along Raf’s back as I join him again. It might be the wine, the baking together, the fresh evening air, seeing Raf in an apron, or all of it combined, but I’m eager to have my hands on him. He pulls my chair closer to his and puts his arm around me when I sit down.
We look out at the skyline above the nearby buildings, and I rest my head on his shoulder. Our hands find each other and do their own dance together. It starts with Raf stroking his thumb over mine while our fingers are interlocked. Then I move to dragging my fingertips up and down the top of his large hand. I gradually move my fingertips, trace up his thick forearm, then caress his bicep.
I stroke his arm and he moves his hand down to my leg. He strokes my thigh gently with his fingers sending electricity through my body.
Just then the kitchen timer goes off. Years of baking make me instinctually jump from the chair. If it weren’t for that, I would have gladly let the pastries burn. “Be right back.” I set my wine down on the table and squeeze Raf’s shoulder on my way back to the kitchen. I take the profiteroles out. They’re perfectly puffed and golden. I set them to cool and turn the oven off before rushing back to Raf.
“They just need to cool for a bit,” I say as I walk back out onto the terrace. In one motion, Raf stands from his chair, turns to me, and wraps his hand around my waist. I don’t hesitate and move right into his arms bringing my lips up to his.
I forget about everything. Everything except the feeling of Raf’s hands on my back, his body pressed against me, and his soft lips as they explore mine. I grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to me.
I want him all over me. I want our whole bodies pressed together. I want to taste every part of him.
He moves his mouth from mine down the side of my neck, tasting me, kissing me. He continues down to my collarbone, his breath sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re so beautiful,” he moans.
I kiss his neck, tasting his soft skin and feeling the hard bands of muscle beneath. I run my teeth lightly along his earlobe as I breathe into his ear. Then we’re back to kissing again. The feel of his mouth on mine is familiar already. Even a few seconds of separation seem like an eternity.
