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"It is, but that's kinda on brand for us, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," he assured, clasping my hand and bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss.
His easy affection ratcheted up my anticipation. Brady seemed to be taking us in stride, and slowly it was shifting my perception of us as casually dating to a real couple.
"Come on, I picked up ingredients to throw together a stir fry after work."
"Are you trying to seduce me with food?" I teased, smiling as I followed him inside, leaning down to give Trouble a quick scritch.
I was painfully aware of how easy I’d be to beguile, with or without a delicious dinner. Tension rode me, leaving me on edge. Jumping Brady’s bones was moving higher on my to-do list by the minute. Being alone with him at his house was almost more temptation than I could handle. At least in public, I’d have to pretend some restraint. But I loved that he wanted to cook for me.
"It's my one move."
He said it with such faux-humility, I couldn't help but bust out laughing.
Brady grinned. "Okay, maybe not myonlymove. Are you interested in seeing some of my others after dinner?"
The way he asked it, the challenge in his eyes, had me nodding eagerly before I could stop myself.
The man had turned me into a puddle of goo, with about as much resistance.
Then again, he was cooking me dinner.
As moves went, he was off to a strong start. I bit my lip, debating making a pass of my own. How would Brady react if I skipped the niceties and used his tie to tug him to his bedroom?
He crooned to Trouble, Brady’s deep bass sending shivers along my spine as I imagined him using that same sweet tone on me. I coughed, hoping the move would move air into my constricted lungs. Brady seemed oblivious to my descent into lust, adding extra kibble to Trouble’s bowl before washing his hands and pulling produce from the fridge.
"Can I get you anything? I've got water, wine, or maybe a beer or two, unless the guys drank it all."
"I’ll wait and have wine with dinner. Water's good for now. I can grab it myself." I filled my glass at the tap, squealing when Brady wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"Excuse me, I need to wash these carrots," he murmured in my ear, playfully nudging my glass out of the way, but keeping me caged in front of him.
"Is this another one of yourmoves?" I asked, tipping my chin up. He stole a quick kiss.
"Maybe. But if you have to ask, I'm going to assume it's not working."
"Oh, it'sworking," I said, leaning back into his warmth, settling back against his hips.
I'd never thought of washing vegetables as foreplay, but the way Brady stroked the carrots, then the celery, sneaking kisses along my neck whenever it suited him, changed my mind.
He pulled away, turning to the cutting board, and I melted against the counter, missing his support. His heat.
The man was a menace.
Clearing my throat, I carried my water glass to the kitchen island, taking a seat where I could watch him work.
Brady sliced and chopped competently, until he had a tiny mountain of perfect carrot rounds and celery slivers in front of him.
He surprised a laugh out of me when he pulled a wok from the cabinet at his knees.
Anything Brady did, he did perfectly.
A ripple of excitement tore through me, leaving my knees weak. I took a quick sip of water to cover, not wanting to let on just how much something as simple as cooking for me could turn me on.
The competitor in me wouldn't let me just succumb to him without putting up a fight. Or trying some moves of my own. I may not have his skills in the kitchen, but I liked to think I had my own charms.
I slipped out of the kitchen, returning with the sketchbook and pencil I kept it my bag.
