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“Great. Now, I hope you’re hungry.” I walk over to the open kitchen and open the fridge, which is fully stocked. “Because I’m cooking for you.”
“Wow.” She grins, leaning against the archway. “Chef Marchetti. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“You’ll have to stick around a bit longer and find that out for yourself.”
She joins me by the counter, helping me out with the pasta I’m trying to boil.
Even though there’s no denying my attraction toward her, I don’t want her to assume that I only want her for her body. I want to win her over, slowly, even though she doesn’t act like she expects anything from me.
And I’m still not sure exactly what I want from her, but I do know I want more. That one night was not enough, and every second spent with her pulls me in more.
I move over to dice the tomatoes for the sauce and feel her gaze on me the whole time.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just that you look… really hot when you do that.”
“Dicing tomatoes?” A laugh escapes through my throat. “So, that was the secret all along?”
“Mhmm.” She comes over and runs her hands down my bicep. “I think it’s sexy when a man knows how to cook for himself.”
“I was under the impression that was the norm.”
“You’d be wrong. I think you’re the first one I’ve met who doesn’t just throw a frozen pizza in the oven and call it a day.”
I set my knife aside and turn toward her, trapping her between the counter and myself. “Well, it’s time to meet a real man.”
Our eyes lock, and the mood suddenly changes.
I’d been hoping to at least make it past dinner to get to this point.
“You know…” she breathes in a low, husky voice without breaking eye contact. “I’ve decided I’m not that hungry for pasta just yet.”
“You’re not?”
She shakes her head, a mischievous smile playing out on the corners of her lips. “Nope. I want to skip to dessert.”
That’s all it takes.
My mouth is on hers again. This time, our kisses are more passionate, there’s a desperation to them as though we can’t get enough of each other.
She opens her mouth to say something when we break apart, but I shut her up by lifting her off her feet and carrying her over to the bedroom.
As much as I want to take her right there on the counter, I want us on a bed.
“Tell me, Quinn,” I whisper in her ear as I set her down beside the bed. “What do you want?”
She bites on her lip. “I…” she breathes out as my fingers begin to fumble with the straps of her dress, slowly pushing them to the side. “I want… you.”
“Be more specific.” I smile, enjoying the way she completely submitted herself to me. “Tell me what it is that you want. Spell it out for me.”
She tries to distract me by leaving kisses down my neck, and it works momentarily, but I want to be the one who’s in charge of this moment.
I pin her hands behind her back, urging her to look me in the eyes.
She looks so fucking sexy with her lipstick smudged and dress half-way removed.
“What do you want?”