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“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” I said uselessly. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think there was that much chili powder.”
He laughed harder, still coughing, and stood from his chair to stumble into the kitchen with tear-blinded eyes. “Don’t eat that,” he croaked.
My hands were on my mouth, and Calla rounded on me with a loud, “Mom!”
Lachlan found paper towels and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “Mother of God,” he laughed, still choking.
I stood up and hovered in front of him, my hands still on my mouth. “Did I poison you?” I asked, my voice muffled. “Can you breathe? Do you need some milk?”
He forced a teary eye open over the paper towel he had over his face. “What did you use?”
“Chili powder!” I said. “It called for two teaspoons, and I did spill a little too much in there, but it shouldn’t be that bad.” As I babbled, I went rooting through the cabinet for the chili powder. I pulled it down and read the label. “Santel’s Spice Company…” I gasped. Then I let my head fall to the counter.
I heard the laugh in his voice as he rasped, “What is it?”
“It’s ghost pepper powder.” He laughed, full tilt, head back and ending on a tortured cough. “I’m the worst,” I moaned with my head in my arms.
“What’s a ghost pepper?” Calla wanted to know. I picked my head up and took in her wrinkled nose and dubious tilt away from the food.
“Just don’t eat it,” I sighed, standing straight and going to Lachlan again. I stood on my tiptoes and put my hands on either side of his head, framing his thick blond hair. “Lachlan, I’msosorry. I’ve never made chili before. I bought that powder for a dare, and it’s the same brand as the regular chili powder, which seems like really bad thought process on their part, because the only thing helping them stand apart iswordsand really, who reads words on things when they’re trying to sauté and boil and not burn the onions—”
Lachlan pinched my cheek. “Stop,” he croaked, still smiling. “You’re killing me faster.”
I pinched his cheek back. “I’m trying to apologize!”
Lachlan pulled away, suddenly, and coughed into his arm. “They’re not going to let me go to work. They’ll think I have COVID.”
“Okay, it can’t be that bad.”
Lachlan squinted over his arm, “It’s bad.”
“Please,” I muttered, more out of the hope that he was exaggerating, and I hadn’t burned his taste buds off permanently.
Lachlan got a wicked gleam in his red-streaked eyes. “Hey Calla, do you want pizza?”
“Yeah!” she cheered, hopping off her chair.
“Go get your socks and shoes on,” he said, not breaking eye contact with my confused expression.
“Yay!” Calla sang and darted out of the kitchen and to her room.
Lachlan lunged for me.
I screeched, trying to pull away, but he was faster, and he scooped an arm around my waist. We spun, and suddenly my back leaned against the sink, and he had my chin in a vice grip. Before I could protest, he sealed his mouth to mine and flicked out his tongue.
Heat seared my mouth. My lips immediately started to tingle, and the fires of Hell seemed to lick at my lips as he devoured my mouth in a crushing, invasive kiss. My mouth was on fire. I felt it creeping down to my sore throat, and Lachlan’s eyes fluttered open, as if waiting for my reaction.
So, I did the opposite.
I leaned into him, letting the tingle sear across my lips, and I flicked my tongue out to lap up the roaring inferno of pepper oils that had attacked his mouth. I didn’t care if his ghost pepper lips were turning mine to ash. I didn’t care if the scorching sensation was making its way to my strep throat and causing crackles of pain in its wake. I wanted him. All of him.
I twined my arms around the back of his neck, and on my tiptoes again, I pressed myself against the firm heat of his erection that had already started to bulge against his slacks.
Lachlan sucked in an aroused breath, almost pained, and his fingers dove into my hair. I pulsed my hips against him. He groaned.
“Mom, where’s my pretty shoes?” Calla asked from her room.
We jumped apart like frogs on an electric fence. I put a hand to my mouth, my eyes watering. “What’s that, sweetie?” I choked.
