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Chapter Six
Camilla
I barely got back to the apartment building before Aden. I did my best to be patient, giving him time to get settled after I heard his car pull up, identifiable by Dante Street Massacre blasting from the sound system, and his door opening and closing.
Holding on as long as I could, I went over and knocked on his door, after taking a breath. A breath which caught again as soon as I saw Aden, standing before me wearing only jeans. He had his T-shirt in his hand. Strong, rippling abs and chiseled pecs were all I could see. The sight kept me from even being able to say hello.
“You just caught me changing, come in.”
I admired the view as I walked inside and sat at the kitchen table as my crush went to the bedroom, returning a few minutes later, unfortunately fully dressed in sweats.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked, trying to get my heart rate down.
I honestly wasn’t expecting much. My primary male role model growing up was Cooper, who was so culinarily unskilled he probably couldn’t have burned water.
“Sweet and sour chicken with prawn fried rice, unless you’re allergic, of course,” Aden said.
“No, not at all. Are you going to order from the local place?”
“Oh, no, I’m going to cook it. I just got a new wok I want to try out.”
I watched closely as he made the dish. Astonished by his graceful, meticulous movements. It was almost erotic watching Aden cook. I imagined what it would be like for those hands to touch me with the same kind of exquisite skill.
I was buzzing with desire by the time he finished and served the food up on four dishes — one for the chicken and one for the rice. One for him and one for me. I deliberately brushed Aden’s hand with mine as he set down my plate. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.
The plates were followed by two cups of a thick, bluish-white liquid I had never seen before.
“What is this?”
“A sort of yogurt drink. Pretty big in Turkey. It’s good, try it.”
I tried it having no idea what to expect. It turned out to be one of the tastiest things I had ever drunk and finished off the glass in no time.
“Sorry,” I said, wiping away my thin white mustache with the back of my had.
“It’s fine. I did the same thing the first time I tried it.”
“More?”
“Sorry, no. It’s hard to make, so I only made the two.”
“Oh.”
“Here, have mine,” he said, putting his own glass over on my side of the table.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Of course, it’s not spicy at all.”
“Thanks,” I said, being a lot more careful with my second chance, feeling pretty humbled.
It was the most I’d eaten in a while, at least all at once. I liked to eat several meals over the course of the day, interspersed with exercise, but the food Aden made was so good I couldn’t help myself. It was the yogurt-like drink all over again.
“Do you like it?” Aden asked out of nowhere.
All I could do was nod emphatically, my mouth already quite full of lovely food at that point.
“Mouth full?” he asked with a slight grin.
