by Rose Wulf
“Definitely,” Brooke replied without hesitation as she pulled open her door and tossed her bag inside. Pausing with one hand on top of the door, she looked back over at him and said, “At the very least, we should do dinner tomorrow night.”
“Sounds like a date,” Blake replied, his lips twitching again.
Brooke smiled silently at him before ducking into her car and pulling the door shut.
****
“You’re right,” Brooke declared Friday night as they settled together on his couch. He had the arm of the sofa at his other side, and his legs were extended, feet under the edge of his coffee table. Brooke was curled up beside him, head on his shoulder, one hand playing with his shirt. She was comfortable. “Dinner in was a good idea.”
When she’d arrived, his house was already filling with the mouthwatering scent of something potentially delicious coming from Blake’s kitchen, and he’d declared he felt it was a good night to stay in. She hadn’t needed a whole lot of convincing. Time alone with Blake was exactly what she wanted.
Blake chuckled and tightened his arm around her waist. “Glad you agree.”
“It was hard not to with the beautiful smells coming from your kitchen,” Brooke admitted with a laugh. She leaned up and teased his cheek with a kiss. His skin was warm beneath her lips, rousing fond memories of their previous intimacy. “What are we having for dinner, anyway?”
“Ravioli. It’s a recipe I had to pilfer from my parents, but it’s worth it.”
“Well, it certainly smells delicious,” Brooke declared with a grin. “And I find it incredibly sexy that you cook voluntarily.” Then again, she found him incredibly sexy.
Blake rumbled and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “It does smell delicious,” he agreed, voice a little thicker than before. “I should go check on it, actually, but I’m pretty sure it’s about ready.”
“Wow,” Brooke teased, refusing to acknowledge the flicker of disappointment at their loss of contact as she allowed him to find his feet. “You can time things properly, too? I don’t think I knew men with that talent still existed.”
Blake just laughed, tossed her a wink, and headed for the kitchen.
Brooke eased to her feet as well after several seconds, trailing behind him into the kitchen to watch. It was a strange sight to see her man moving around so confidently in the kitchen, clearly knowing what he was doing and being comfortable doing it. Certainly none of her previous boyfriends had been big into cooking. At least not anything more complicated than hot dogs, she reflected with a faint grin. This was a change she could get used to.
And then Blake stepped back. Hands on his hips, he uttered the words she most wanted to hear. “Dinner’s ready.”
Blake refused to allow her to help set the table and to serve. So she watched with a permanent grin on her lips, a hungry rumble in her stomach, and a trickle of warmth between her legs as Blake strode into the dining room. He had a steaming serving bowl in his pot-holder-protected hands. The sight was picture-worthy, and Brooke sincerely lamented having left her phone in her purse on the couch in the living room.
He set the bowl on a deliberately placed table protector, next to a waiting serving spoon, and Brooke couldn’t help but lean forward to get a look. Blake chuckled at her before turning to head back into his kitchen, pot holders in one hand. Brooke’s gaze locked onto the steaming food and she took a deep breath. The large raviolis were covered in a thick marinara sauce. She could only barely make out the rectangular outlines of the ravioli beneath the sauce, but they were quite a bit larger than the type she bought at the grocery store. The sauce was the perfect shade of red, with visible flecks of green from whatever spices he’d used, as well as discernable chunks of tomato. And whatever those spices were was undoubtedly what had her stomach practically pleading with her to dig in already.
Blake returned with a large bowl of salad in his hands. Two types of dressing were tucked beneath one arm, and two bottles of iced tea were in the crook of the other. He set everything down, not claiming his own seat until after he’d filled both their plates. And then dinner was on.
They kept the conversation light as they ate, and after Brooke finally bit into her perfectly cooled ravioli she said, “You know, if Ed ever quits, you could be a shoo-in for Head Chef at the diner.”
Blake laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t think I could trade part-time at the beach for full-time in a kitchen.” Flashing her a grin, he added, “But I’m glad you like it.”
“How could I not? This ravioli is delicious,” she replied with a grin of her own. Almost as delicious as that smile.
“The next time I talk to my grandmother, I’ll be sure to thank her for sharing.”
“I thought you said you got the recipe from your parents?” Brooke asked after she swallowed another bite.
“I did,” he said. “But my father got it from my grandmother, who got it from … I think it was my great-grandmother?”
Brooke scooped up a large, sauce-covered bite of her ravioli and held it up as she said, “It’s like we’re eating a family heirloom.” She winked and popped the forkful into her mouth. In all honesty, she hadn’t known ravioli and marinara sauce could taste so amazing. Even the sausage inside the ravioli, which was mixed with cheese, had awesome flavor.
Dinner passed easily, and once again Brooke found herself relegated to the sidelines during cleanup. And as she watched, she found herself suddenly envious. Doing the dishes seemed to go a lot faster when you could control the water the way Blake did. He just wiggled his wrist a few times in a circle, and everything was rinsed and scrubbed at once.
As Blake slipped the final dish into the dishwasher, Brooke couldn’t help but ask, “You actually use that thing?” It was a stupid question, and she knew it as soon as she had thought it. Of course he uses a dishwasher. His power is water, not soapy water.
A single flick of his wrists was all it took for Blake’s hands to dry, and he shut the dishwasher with a chuckle. “Of course I do.”
“Right.” Brooke felt like a moron. By then he was facing her, and her self-conscious laughter faded away as she said, “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.” She couldn’t wait for dessert.
Blake’s lips twitched, and he stepped into her personal space, clamping his hands on her hips and pulling her up against him. When their lips were mere centimeters apart, he murmured, “Thank you for the company.”
An instant later, their lips were pressed together, parted enough for their tongues to dance, and Brooke’s fingers were buried in his hair. She felt like she’d been waiting for this kiss all day.
Blake’s arms wound fully around her waist, one of his hands tangling in her long, loose hair, and one of Brooke’s hands slipped from his hair to dip beneath his shirt collar. Her fingers brushed along his bare skin, and Blake tightened his hold on her as he deepened the kiss. She arched into him with a faint, muffled moan when his thumb trailed over her spine. It certainly hadn’t taken him long to memorize that trick. His hand drifted a bit lower, and then his fingers were teasing her skin, just above her jeans.
“Blake,” Brooke gasped when their lips parted a moment later. Both of them dragged in deep breaths. Her eyes were still mostly closed, but she blinked them open when his hold loosened and he leaned back. When her gaze focused, she found herself staring into his deep, darkened blue eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile at the desire she saw in them.
He untangled his hand from her hair and adjusted his grip so that he could trail his thumb along her cheek gently, holding her gaze all the while. Her own grip on his hair loosened, and her hand slid to his shoulder without thought. He leaned in and pressed his lips over hers again. But this kiss was tender, brief, and he pulled away almost too quickly.
Brooke was still attempting to find her voice, curious about what else she’d seen in his eyes, when he took a single step back. She was forced to loosen her hold, her hands sliding partially down his chest, and he released h
er almost entirely as he reached up and pulled one of her hands into his.
“About the movie…” Blake began, his voice low and heavy with something that tingled up and down Brooke’s spine as it washed over her. It took her a moment to remember they’d even intended to watch a movie that night.
Even she could hear the desire sneaking into her own voice when she replied, “What movie?”
Brooke’s body temperature skyrocketed as she allowed him to lead her down the hall, further from the living room. It had only been a handful of days since they’d first made love, it was true, but she was almost more nervous now than she’d been the first time. The first time had been a heat-of-the-moment thing—an amazing heat-of-the-moment thing—but this was different. This was deliberate. This wasn’t just raging lust and early morning hormones. This was desire. The kind that had her silly heart skipping beats in her chest and made her mouth run dry. Which was probably ironic…
Blake’s bedroom was significantly larger than hers, of course. Like the rest of his home. He led her several feet into the room before turning suddenly and pulling her flush against him once more. Brooke met him halfway this time, her hands resting on the smooth planes of his chest as their lips met again in a hungry kiss. His hands rested on her hips, holding her against him as she curled her fingers into his chest through the fabric of his shirt.
Then his hands shifted, and he deliberately slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, slowly massaging her smooth, warm skin. She moaned against his lips at the contact and curled her tongue around his before pulling back from the kiss. He met her eyes again, and she grinned flirtatiously. Brooke pulled her hands from his chest and then grabbed fistfuls of her own shirt. She tugged it easily over her head and let it drop behind her.
Blake mimicked her, tossing his shirt somewhere to the side, and as he did so he dropped her gaze, his eyes moving down and over her torso as if he’d never seen—let alone kissed—it before. Her light-blue lacy bra had been very specifically chosen for this date. What he’d yet to discover was that she’d bought the bra as part of a set with matching panties.
“Do you like what you see?” Brooke teased, trailing her fingers across his chest. She caught his gaze with another flirtatious grin as she traced the contours of his muscles.
He matched her grin with one of his own and lifted one hand to run his finger along the strap of her bra. “The color looks good on you.”
Brooke laughed softly. “I should hope so, water boy.” Was it ridiculous that she’d purchased this set—as opposed to classic black—because the color was symbolic of her boyfriend’s superpower? Probably.
Blake let his hand trail down her back, over the now-bared skin. Her laughter melted into a muted moan, and her hand stilled as her eyes fluttered closed. God, she loved his touch.
Chapter Thirteen
His hands curved around her bare waist and her hand pressed over his chest, above his heart, in a moment of lingering silence. Her head was resting over his shoulder. His was tilted slightly into hers. A beat later, they stepped apart, both quickly shedding their jeans, all the while keeping their eyes locked on the other. And she caught the flicker of a grin when he saw her panties.
Brooke couldn’t decide if she was disappointed that he didn’t go commando or relieved to see that he didn’t wear briefs—an observation she’d neglected to make the first time. Not that it mattered. And when he stepped up to her again, she forgot the dilemma entirely. His hands lifted, fingers trailing along her hip bones and over the thin, lacy sides of her panties. Feeling his cool, smooth skin skimming along her own, Brooke pulled her lip between her teeth and raised her hands to frame his face.
Their eyes met again and she smiled. He smiled back.
Their tongues were clashing again a moment later as he lifted her from the floor and carried her the rest of the way to the bed. She had wrapped her arms and legs around him when he’d picked her up, so they fell together onto the large mattress, her head landing—barely—on a pillow. They broke apart, and Blake bowed his head to begin trailing kisses down the side of her neck.
She was too lost in sensation to note the irony of the power he possessed and the heat that blazed through her with every pass of his tongue along her throat, and she couldn’t help but moan faintly when he sucked on the sensitive skin over her pulse point. His hands were moving along her exposed skin deliberately, slowly massaging patterns into her stomach and over her sides. Her own hands were wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders, keeping him as close as she could. He still wasn’t close enough.
His head lowered a bit more, and his tongue trailed across her collar bone as he shifted in order to kiss his way back up the other side of her throat. He earned several more muffled moans before she started to squirm beneath him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he was close enough for her to hear his heavy swallow.
When he finally allowed her to kiss him again, she readjusted her hold in order to bury her fingers in his hair. She absolutely loved his hair and the soft way it fell over her fingers. He rolled his hips forward when she nibbled a little on his lower lip, and her body arched in response. One of his hands settled again over her hip, and he used his other arm to brace himself before he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. The kiss broke as Brooke realized that she was straddling him now, his hands curving around her back and sliding slowly up her spine. She found she liked this power position.
He held her gaze as he released the clasp on her bra. She smiled and sat up, still straddling him, in order to shrug easily out of the lacy material and toss it aside. The desire in his eyes doubled as he took in the sight of her, and his increased desire was more than enough to spike her own. With a sultry smile, she leaned down and pressed her lips to the skin beneath his jaw. She wanted to make the fun last this time.
His hands, which had been resting over her hips, slid down to her thighs as his head fell back and she trailed her kisses down his neck. She paused a minute to suckle the skin at the hollow of his throat, before continuing down his chest. He moaned as she shimmied her way ever lower, kissing and licking his cooler skin, until she reached his boxers. She stopped then and lifted her gaze back to his. He was watching her, his expression strained and hungry—yearning. Matching the heat in her own body.
Brooke sat up again, her lips curving into a smirk, and she trailed her hands along his abs before sliding them to his sides and grasping his final article of clothing. She didn’t even try to hold his gaze as she hurriedly discarded both his boxers and her own panties. Then she reached out again and, letting her eyes return to his, carefully trailed one finger along the length of him. She was finally getting to touch him and was eager to see his reaction.
Blake’s head fell back against the pillow. He groaned, fisting the comforter beneath them at his sides. If she could garner that reaction with just one little touch, she couldn’t wait to see what he’d do next. She wrapped her whole hand around him, squeezing and pulling slowly. He made a choked sound that was half groan, so she pumped again. Faster. His hips were straining to arch up, but he was trying to resist. She didn’t want him to resist, so she squeezed a little tighter and kicked up the tempo again. The sound he made nearly tempted her to touch herself while she played with him.
It was a long few minutes before she released him, her own desire nearly tripled at the sight of him naked and straining beneath her. It was all she could do not to just impale herself on his rigid cock then and there. But instead she crawled back up his body until she was leaning over him, her lips barely an inch from his. He was watching her again, and she smiled seductively, slipping her tongue out to lick her lips.
He reached up with one hand, framing her face and guiding her lips to his for a passionate kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth and she moaned for him, enjoying his responsive rumble beneath her. His other hand landed on her hip, and she shifted herself around before finally sinking onto him. She kept it slow—or as slow as she could manage—and broke
the kiss in order to watch his face as she took him inside her.
Blake’s hips rolled in to hers automatically, sheathing himself entirely within her. Both of his hands skimmed along her sides, sending little jolts of electric desire throughout her body. Then he found one of her breasts with one hand and curved his other around her spine, tugging her forward again as she began rocking against him. Their lips reconnected as his hips arched up to meet hers, and they fell quickly into a hot, barely controlled rhythm.
He continued to surge into her, matching her rhythm with his own. She couldn’t describe the sensations she felt. It was like she was melting into him. And then his hand left her breast, and before she knew it, he had flipped them back over.
He continued to thrust into her even as he abandoned her lips to trail hot, steamy kisses along the length of her throat. Brooke gasped loudly, her arms curving around his torso and her nails digging into his skin. They picked up the pace, and one of Brooke’s legs lifted, wrapping around his hip in an effort to take him deeper.
Blake trailed his tongue back up the column of her throat before reclaiming her lips in a hard kiss. He was braced above her now, one forearm on the mattress beside her, and his other hand had wandered to her breast. He molded the pliable flesh masterfully, and their lips parted again as he finally collided with just the right spot. He sheathed himself once more inside of her, and they both cried out.
It was a long moment before her leg slid back to the bed, her arms loosening around him as she tried to regain her breathing.
Blake dragged in another breath and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her cheek even as he eased himself out of her. He half-rolled, half-collapsed beside her. Brooke wasted no time rolling into him.
After several minutes, with Brooke tucked beneath his arm, Blake tiredly murmured, “So … ravioli for dinner tomorrow?”
