by Niecey Roy
I perched precariously on a stool against the counter, one knee resting on the granite for balance as I stretched for the top shelf of the cabinet. The stool wobbled as I put too much pressure on one side.
My fingertips brushed against the martini glass again, and I exclaimed, “Yes!”
“Yes is right. It’s a pretty good view from here.”
Leo’s voice startled me, and I teetered on the stool. I squealed as I lost my balance and a pair of strong hands cupped my hips. My heart thrummed against my ribcage, and where his hands rested, the heat passed through my sweatpants and against my skin.
“Damn it, Leo, you scared the crap out of me.” But my voice lacked conviction.
The butterflies fluttered to life; slow at the moment, gently bumping against each other. But the fluttering would escalate the longer he was near. He balanced me effortlessly in his hands, pulling me down from the counter and turning me in his arms so my chest pressed against his.
“What are you doing here?” I sucked in a breath of his cologne. “You’re supposed to be working some big case. We’re having a girls’ night. Girls’ night means no boys.”
After our almost-kiss earlier, I hadn’t been able to get him off my mind. Part of the reason I’d agreed to having pasta at Roxanna’s house and not Gen’s apartment was because I’d hoped to see him at some point tonight. Not that I’d admit it out loud. Ever.
“Roxanna asked me to bring home cranberry juice for your drinks.” He let me go, and I stumbled backward. He grinned at my scowl. “I think you’re happy to see me, Princess.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was dead on. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He stepped closer. “And I think you’re tired of avoiding me.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been…” What had I been doing? Wallowing in self-pity? Indulging on empty carbs? Thinking about his lips on mine. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Working. Like you.”
“No, you’ve been avoiding me,” he whispered against the tingling flesh of my neck. He dropped a kiss near my earlobe—warm, soft, and my heart raced in my chest. “How about that kiss now?”
Holy wow. I licked my lips, ready for it. All of my senses sprang to life. My ears pricked, and I held my breath to listen—nothing. We were alone. Roxanna and Gen were on the other side of the house in the entertainment room. No one would catch us.
He closed the distance, and with the counter behind me, there was nowhere to go. Was there any point in pretending I wanted to escape?
“I, uh, don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, my words breathless with excitement.
He dropped his hands to encircle my waist, and I snuggled up against him.
“I think it’s a great idea.” He leaned down and dropped a single, soft kiss to my lips.
The jolt at the contact was all in my mind, but I felt the ripple effect throughout my body. I jerked from the surprise of it.
“Always so jumpy,” he whispered. His tongue slipped between my lips like a silken caress, and shivers shot down my spine. Warmth pooled low in my belly, and my head spun. When he stopped, he didn’t let me go. He wouldn’t have been able to; my arms were wound tight around his neck. “So are we done pretending you don’t miss me?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Speechless, ‘eh?” he teased.
“This,” I said, pressing my finger to his chest, “is just physical.”
“Whatever you say, Princess.” He cupped my butt, easily lifting me off the ground.
I wrapped my legs around his waist out of instinct—and need. He kissed me again, the urgency and heat behind it made my nerve-endings sizzle, and he pushed me up against the counter, pressing his erection against the cotton of my sweats, and I gasped.
When he ended the kiss, it took everything I had not to tear his clothes off. I panted, my head fuzzy. I’d missed this, missed the feel of him, the taste of him. If he were to rub his thumb…
I dropped my head against his shoulder. “I’m watching movies with Gen and Rox tonight.”
“Cancel.” His voice was as uneven as mine. He took my hand and placed it over his erection—he was so hard—and the ache between my legs intensified.
“I can’t,” I whined.
The need became so uncomfortable, I thought I might cry. Leo was like a drug, the most intense high imaginable, and he was so close, nothing but cotton between us. The yearning was almost painful.
“Damn it, Lexie,” he growled and whirled with me in his arms.
I pressed my face against his shoulder and hung on, not knowing where we were going, though a part of me hoped he would haul me out of the house, into his vehicle and take me somewhere, anywhere, and make the ache disappear. A door shut quietly, and I looked up from his chest into a dark room. I couldn’t see a thing, but I heard him fumble with the lock. The room smelled like him.
I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until he set me down on the bed, kneeled between my legs and pressed his mouth against the cotton of my sweats, his breath hot against me as he nipped right where I ached for his touch. I gasped and threw my head back.
It happened so fast—my pants were gone, though he’d left my panties in place. He hooked his finger around the seam, pulling it aside so he could lick against my swollen, wet flesh. I moaned, would have screamed even, but he stuck two fingers into my mouth. I bit down, sucked, and gripped the comforter in my fists.
I came hard and fast from the firm stroke of his warm tongue, over and over again, kissing me there with his soft lips. Shuddering, I squeezed my knees together—the sensations were too much, I couldn’t stand it—but he held my legs open, loving me with his mouth until I thought I would black out from the intense pleasure. When it was over, I trembled and didn’t stop even as he folded me into his arms and held me in his warm embrace.
When I could think again, my cheeks burned. He was fully clothed. “Leo, you didn’t—”
“Ssh.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. I could taste myself on him. “This was for you.”
My heart felt a tug it shouldn’t.
Only lust, my mind rationalized. He made it so easy to want him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I’d been so focused on the sensations pleasuring my own body; I’d been unable to think of anything else. He’d turned me into an animal—a selfish, sex-crazed animal. I blurted, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, I know you will,” he said.
My eyes were adjusted to the dark now, and I could see his face in shadows. I wanted his lips against mine, kissing me again.
“Okay,” I said, warm with anticipation.
“But not tonight.” He brushed his fingers between my slick thighs, and my back arched at the sensation. “Consider this one a gift, Princess.”
“A gift,” I repeated dumbly.
He shifted to set me on the bed against the rumpled comforter, then kneeled between my legs to press a soft kiss just below my bellybutton. “And I’ll be expecting you to return the favor. Soon.”
And then he was gone. He’d shut the door behind me and left me in the dark to pull myself together. I sat there dazed for too long, holding my pants against my chest. When someone called my name, I jumped from the bed and yanked my clothes on, then quickly smoothed Leo’s comforter back into place. When I stepped into the kitchen, it was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief and opened the fridge, my mouth parched.
“You okay?” Roxanna said from behind me.
I squealed, jumping at the sound of her voice. I whirled to face her, my eyes wide.
She studied me like a frog she was about to dissect. “You look a little flushed.”
“No. I mean, a little.” I touched the back of my hand to my forehead. “Maybe I’m getting sick or something.”
Roxanna’s suspicious expression faded, and she smiled. “I’m sure you’re fine.” She held up a big bottle of cranberry juice. “Leo just stopped by to bring this over. If the chocolate dri
nk doesn’t work out, we can do some kind of vodka cranberry drink. And I have club soda.”
“Sounds good.” I turned around to open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water from the bottom shelf. “Did he leave?”
The fact he’d just taken off after…whatever the hell that was…kind of irked me. Though it was probably better he was gone. It would’ve been awkward with all of us in the same room after what we’d done.
“Yeah, he’s still working.” She hooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go watch the movie.”
“The movie, yes.” My exaggerated enthusiasm raised Roxanna’s brows.
“Did you talk to Leo?” She glanced over at me.
My face flushed, and I averted my eyes. “No,” I said too quickly.
“Oh. He was in a cheerful mood,” she said, fishing for information.
She wouldn’t get anything out of me, that was for sure. I remained tight-lipped.
“I think he might be seeing someone,” she added.
“I wouldn’t know, and I definitely don’t care.”
I couldn’t look into her eyes or she’d rip the truth right out of my brain. She was as bad as my sisters with reading my thoughts. Saying I didn’t care was exactly something she’d expect to hear from me, especially because I told anyone who would listen I was done with men, done with love. Done, period. I put the bottle of water to my lips and swallowed a big drink.
“He still has a thing for blondes, you know.”
I choked on the water, and she beat me on the back. After she hammered me for the third time, I said, “Ouch! I’m okay, I’m okay!”
“Just making sure nothing was damaged, like your brain.” Roxanna gave me a pointed stare. She had no proof of anything—no proof except my nervousness. Damn it.
I definitely, for certain, should stay away from Leo Moss.
Well, after the next time. I sucked in a smile, and my lady parts tingled. It was too late to back out, not after the mind-blowing “O” I’d just been “gifted.” Wasn’t it only fair to reciprocate? Just one last time? It was the nice thing to do, after all. I wondered when “soon” would be. Tomorrow? A week from now?
We stepped into the entertainment room. Gen looked up at us from where she sat on the couch. “Sheesh, what took you guys so long?”
Roxanna jerked her thumb toward me. “Ask your twin.”
I shrugged in answer. “Are we going to watch a movie or not?”
Chapter Fifteen
I opened my door to find Leo standing in the hallway, one arm around a big brown paper bag, his other hand holding what looked like folded up blankets. “Did Roxanna kick you out?”
He gave me his puppy dog eyes, batted once, looking so forlorn, it was adorable. “No, but she left me home alone, and I was hungry.”
I stepped aside to let him in, pretending not to feel the least bit exhilarated he’d shown up unannounced. I’d spent the last three days obsessively checking my text messages, wondering when he’d show up. Really, what had taken him so long?
“I was about to open a can of chicken noodle.” My cabinets were pretty bare. I’d spent too much money on junk food the last few weeks to afford real groceries. Those fancy cupcakes were not cheap.
“No chicken noodle. You’re making us my favorite pasta.”
I padded barefoot behind him to the kitchen where he set down the grocery bag. “I’m going to make it? Shouldn’t you make it if it’s your favorite?”
He turned and shook out an apron, bright red with tan lettering that read: I’m burning stuff. He grinned. “I can’t cook.”
I laughed. “I see your point.”
He shook out the other apron. It read: I’m putting out the fire.
“And this one is yours.” He looked so pleased with himself, it was adorable. “Wait, you can cook, right?”
“Yes, I can cook.” I took the apron from him and put it over my blouse. I’d just come from work and still had on my blush pink skirt and cream blouse. For a brief second I considered changing before digging into the grocery bag, but ended up tying the apron around me. “It makes sense your favorite dish is a pasta recipe, but isn’t there some kind of law that Italians should all know how to cook?”
“That’s ethnic stereotyping, and I’m offended.” His grin made my stomach flutter. Really, the man was impossible.
I rolled my eyes and pushed him across the kitchen to the counter near the fridge. “I’m just saying, it’s weird. Roxanna and her dad are super-cooks, and you’re the size of a truck but can’t cook for yourself. If no one is around to feed you, how do you survive?” I’d watched him eat in the Caribbean, amazed at the amount of food he consumed in a day. “Get the cutting board; it’s leaning up against the fridge.”
“I can cook a mean grilled cheese.” He set the cutting board in front of the breakfast bar, where I pulled out the contents of the grocery bag and set them on the counter. The breakfast bar acted as a separation in the small living space between the kitchen and living room. He winked at me. “I even use two different kinds of cheese.”
“Oh?” My cheeks ached from smiling. “What kinds of cheese, fancy-pants?”
“Yellow and white.” He said it so simply, I laughed.
Why was it when I was around him, it was so easy to smile? I could forget everything else and enjoy simple things, like cooking again. When was the last time I’d cooked a meal in my apartment? I paused as I thought back. Before the wedding. Way before the wedding. I’d been so caught up in the planning, the stress, worrying about my relationship with Jeremy, I hadn’t stopped to enjoy the little things.
It doesn’t matter now. That’s over. And I was relieved for it. Because here I was, sharing my kitchen with the most gorgeous man I knew, while he wowed me with his cheese knowledge. I pressed a yellow onion to his chest. “You can slice onions, right?”
He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
“It’s not at all.” I unwrapped the mushrooms. “Do you have a recipe for this, or are we just throwing stuff together?”
“Crap, I knew I forgot something.” He sighed and tied his apron around his middle. “Can’t we just wing it?”
“I said I can cook, I didn’t say I was amazing at it. Mostly I just go to my parents’, and Cat and Mom whip something up. I can follow directions though.” I took inventory of all the items he’d purchased. “If you don’t have a recipe, how do you know you bought all the right stuff?”
He tapped his temple. “I have a really good memory. These are all the items Rox has on the counter when she makes it for me. She cooks everything and throws it in a bowl.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like Roxi’s cooking.”
Cooking was a passion of Roxanna’s. She definitely didn’t throw anything around in the kitchen. Well, unless you counted flipping pancakes in the air, which she only did to show off every now and then. She’d learned a lot from her dad before he left.
“Okay, I’m pretty sure she’s made this for Gen and me before, but it’s been awhile. I think we need to cook the hamburger steak first and then we cook everything else in the pan.”
“Yes, that’s what she does. I just can’t tell you what measurements.” He sliced the ends off the onion then peeled off the top layer.
“Rox doesn’t measure when she cooks. She has some kind of weird talent of eye-balling everything.” I set a skillet on the stove then handed him a big pan. “Put water in this to boil the spaghetti. I’ll clean the mushrooms.”
While I brushed the mushrooms with a damp washcloth, Leo sliced the onions. He blinked against the vapors, and because he was a manly man, he didn’t say a word. I sucked in my cheeks to hold back my smile and waited for the waterworks. Finally, he set the knife down and rubbed at his eyes.
“This is why I don’t cook! It hurts!” The tears matted his cheeks as he rubbed the backs of his hands against his closed eyelids.
“It’s okay. My dad cries every time.” I laughed and led him to the sink. He stumbled, blind, and I turned
the water on for him so he could lean down and splash water on his face. He looked like an overgrown boy in his apron and flushed cheeks.
“I don’t know why the military uses guns in war. Just drop onion fumes on the enemy and they’d surrender.” He patted his face dry with a hand towel. “I feel bad for all the meals my mom and Rox have cooked for me. I love onions. They put onions in everything.”
I rubbed him on the back. “It doesn’t bother some people like it does others,” I soothed, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“You think so?” He looked so forlorn.
“Yes, I do.” I pointed at the mushrooms. “Slice those instead. I’ll do the onions.” I finished them quickly and set them aside in a bowl because my eyes stung. “Can you hand me the olive oil? It’s up in the cabinet in the corner.”
“Sure,” he said.
I turned on the burner under the skillet just as he set the olive oil on the counter. I measured the oil by making two large circles on the bottom of the pan. My back arched when he slid his arms around me from behind.
“I’m glad I came over.” His breath was warm against my neck.
“Me too, or you might have died of starvation.” I tugged the corner of my bottom lip into my mouth and set the olive oil down before he could see how shaky he made me.
“I was really hungry.” He kissed my neck, and I shivered.
I tilted my head to the side so he would have free reign to do whatever he wanted there. And he did, dropping feather light kisses to my neck and shoulder. I concentrated on seasoning the hamburger steaks with salt and pepper, but ignoring him was difficult. Mostly because I didn’t want to ignore him. I wanted to encourage him. You owe him, after all, my mind reasoned.
“If this is your favorite meal, you should pay attention and make sure I’m doing it right,” I lectured, not meaning a word of it. I liked where his attention had gone, right to the nape of my neck. “I’ve never made this before. I might ruin it.”
