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He obeys.
I grab the ladle and get a scoop of the mixture which I put into the pan.
“Now, we’ll just put a scoop of the batter here and then we’ll tilt the pan so it reaches up to the edges and makes a perfect circle. Then we just wait. It’s important for us to leave the batter alone so that it can…”
“Harden?” Ryker supplies.
He is teasing me on purpose, isn’t he? Not seducing. Just teasing.
“I was going to say ‘solidify’,” I tell him. “It should take no more than two minutes.”
We wait. In silence. Awkward silence.
This is one of the times I wish whatever is in the pan would cook faster, but cooking is one of the things you can’t rush. Deliciousness simply takes time.
Finally, it gets golden.
“Now, we just flip it over like a pancake.” I do it in one smooth motion. “Then we wait about thirty seconds for this side to become crisp and golden and it’s done.”
I take the crepe out of the pan and transfer it to a plate. Then I look at Ryker.
“You do the rest.”
He does. And impressively, too.
Is there anything he can’t do? Is this his ploy—impressing me with his cooking skills so I’ll forgive him and take him back?
It may not be as effective as seducing me outright, but I have to say it is working.
He transfers the last crepe to the plate. “Now what?”
Now, I reward you with a kiss, I nearly say. Instead, I grab the spatula from him.
“Now, we make the filling. And this is the fun part.”
“I thought making the crepes was pretty fun,” Ryker says.
“Well, this is the creative part. You get to experiment. You can make practically anything you like for the filling. You can use steak. You can use rotisserie chicken. You can use pulled pork. You can use ham or smoked salmon or shrimp or bacon or mushrooms or kimchi. You get the picture.”
He nods. “I do.”
“This time, we’ll use rotisserie chicken and mushrooms with a bit of spinach.”
“Okay.”
I toss them in a pan with some butter and garlic and start to mix them around, but Ryker places his hand over mine.
His touch is even more scorching than the steam from the pan.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
I step aside and let him.
I watch him as he cooks. I don’t know how he does it, but the more he cooks, the hotter he looks in that apron. And his focused expression makes him sizzle even more.
“Hot enough?” Ryker asks suddenly.
The hand I have tucked beneath my chin drops. “What?”
“We’re just supposed to heat all this, right, because it’s already cooked? So is this hot enough or do I need to heat it some more?”
Oh, that’s what he meant.
I look into the pan. “That’s good enough. Now, we just have to add some cream cheese and we’re done.”
I scoop some of the cream cheese into the pan and Ryker folds it into the rest of the mixture. Then I take the pan off the heat. We stuff the crepes with the filling and I drizzle some melted butter over them for the finishing touch.
“And we’re done.”
“So now, we eat?” Ryker asks.
I shrug. “You can eat.”
I’m still full. Or maybe I just have an appetite for something other than food.
Ryker cuts one of the crepes and stuffs a big piece inside his mouth. The melted butter coats his lips and he licks it.
“Mmm. This is really good. Tastier than I thought it would be.”
I barely hear him because I’m distracted by the bit of cream cheese stuck to the corner of his mouth.
He gives me a puzzled look. “What?”
I touch the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got something.”
“Where?”
Without thinking, I step forward. My arm leaves my side. My hand reaches his face.
I wipe the corner of his mouth with the pad of my thumb. Only then do I realize I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. I pull my hand away but Ryker grabs my wrist. Next thing I know his lips are wrapped around my thumb. His tongue presses against it as he sucks.
My breath catches. A shiver goes down my spine.
Before I have any time to process what’s happening, Ryker releases my thumb but not my wrist. He pulls me forward and I crash against him. His lips catch mine.
He grips my hip as he kisses me, gently at first and then with a fire that reaches every corner of my body. I pull my hand away from his so I can caress the nape of his neck as I kiss him back. Our tongues collide and I taste the cheese, the herbs, the butter. I taste him, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.
And I want more.
I pull away so I can look into his eyes. They’re glossed over with so much heat and lust that I can barely speak. I swallow.
