Page 69 of Captured Love

He wipes at his cheek again, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. So what’s next, Chef?”

I like the way he’s deferring to me in this setting, letting me take the lead. “Next, we need to sauté these with some garlic,” I say, moving toward the stove. “Can you get me another cutting board? We need to slice the zucchini next.”

Knox rummages through a cabinet and pulls out a cutting board, sliding it across the counter to me. I start slicing the zucchini into thin rounds as he watches over my shoulder.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

I shrug. “It just takes practice. Cooking is like anything else—you get better the more you do it.”

“Maybe you can teach me,” he says.

I look over at him. “Just like you’re teaching me how to work out more efficiently?”

“Exactly,” he says. “We can do a skills swap.”

“Deal,” I say, turning back to the zucchini. “But don't blame me if you end up as ripped as me.”

He chuckles, a deep and genuine sound that fills the kitchen. “I think I can handle it. Not to mention, I absolutely love your body.”

My knife freezes in the air mid-slice. Did he just?—?

I turn slowly to face Knox. His eyes lock on mine and a thousand thoughts sprint through my mind.

He steps closer, closing the space between us. I put the knife down to prevent cutting myself or him.

“You what?—”

“And I mean it. Every word. You’re stunning.” He takes another step and places his finger under my chin, tilting my face toward his. His eyes study my lips for a moment before his lips meet mine.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters. Then it deepens, a surge of warmth and electricity that makes my knees threaten to give out. I can taste the mix of beer and something inherently Knox on his breath.

My hands land on his chest and I find that his heart is pounding just as wildly as mine. I love that I have this effect on him.

He pulls away slowly and I’m left breathless. My lips are still tingling as a result of his kiss.

I take a shaky breath and respond with, “Thank you for saying that. And I want to thank you for the kiss, but that might be weird.”

That makes Knox chuckle. “It was my pleasure, both things.”

I pick the knife back up and get back to work on dinner. The comfortable silence that follows is punctuated by the sizzle of vegetables hitting hot oil and the occasional clink of glass as Knox finishes his beer. I half expect him to open another, but instead, he just leans against the counter, content to watch me work.

“So why tortellini soup?” he asks after a while.

I stir the pot, inhaling the aroma of garlic and onions. “Just found the recipe randomly. It's comfort food. Plus, it's getting colder out, so soup just sounded right.”

“Good choice,” he says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Can you hand me the broth?” I ask, trying to focus on the task at hand. He obliges, and I pour it into the pot just before he asks another question.

“Do you cook a lot when you’re home?”

“Not as much as I'd like,” I admit. “When school is out, either my mom or dad cook. Sometimes I’ll throw something together quickly, but I’m hoping all of that changes once I graduate.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan?”

“I want to get my own place, maybe a tiny apartment with a nice kitchen. Somewhere I can experiment and not have to worry about washing fifteen different pots and pans every night.”

“Sounds nice,” Knox says, almost wistfully. “I can’t imagine living alone though. The silence would drive me nuts.”