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“Warm and nutty.” I frown, trying to access more words. “Sweet, but almost burnt. With… cinnamon?”

“Caramel,” he declares, pointing the pen at me. “That’s it. I don’t get cinnamon, though.”

I look away, embarrassed. “Oh, well.”

It’s not that the food tastes like cinnamon, it’s my traitorous body picking up on his scent.

“Texture,” he goes on.

“Crunchy. Crisp?” I sigh. This is hard.

“Yes!” He writes it down with a flourish. “You’re good at this, sweets.”

Warm pleasure makes me smile, and for a moment we lock eyes. His grin is blinding.

“You know, my idea of a culinary good time is a bag of doritos,” he admits when the plates are clear. He pushes up his sleeves and starts stacking them. “Larch is some kind of genius with veg, though.”

“Your arm.” I reach out instinctively. His arm is covered in fairy dust —myfairy dust! A possessive thrill runs through me.

“Oh.” His gaze is suddenly intent. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“You don’t mind?”

His skin pebbles under my touch. “I sure don’t.”

I tug his sleeve down, hiding it away —protecting it, the little voice in my head whispers — and he gives me a quizzical look.

“I’m not ready to share yet,” I say sheepishly.

Ezra smiles. “That’s alright, sweets. It can be just between us.”

It’s only later, when we’re back in my bed, with his scent surrounding me and his solid weight against my back, that I find the courage to whisper, “Ezra.”

“Hmm?” His chest vibrates.

“Do friends do what we did in the red room?”

His arm tightens around me. “Friends can do anything together, including what we did. Is that what you want?”

In response, I bring his hand down. His breath hitches. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest, and the shock that goes through me when his fingers brush my parted slit through the silk of my pajamas tears a noise out of my throat.

“You’re wet again,” he whispers, the words barely brushing my ear.

“I’ve been like this all day.” I shudder.

His hand slips inside my shorts and his fingers stroke the mound where my hidden cock swells. I hiss at the sudden pressure. It feels good — too good. Once again there’s a strange feeling ofnewness, of opening, and his hand brushes something tender and bright. I gasp. Overwhelmed, I squirm out of his arms.

I shove the covers off, revealing us both to the light. Ezra’s eyes glitter. I burn to touch him, to make him feel what I’m feeling. I run my hand over his firm chest, relishing how it rises and falls under my palm.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” His rough voice sends shivers through me.

“I want…” I trail off, my imagination failing me as inexperience leaves me floundering. But Ezra seems to understand what I need instinctively.

He grabs his shirt by the hem and drags it off, leaving himself almost bare to my eyes. I love the way his body is different from mine, sturdy and broad where mine is slim, his waist thick and his thighs firm and covered in coarse hair. I remember there’s a thick patch of hair between his legs, too, and I reach for his waistband. Then he’s naked in front of me.

Nervousness zips through my veins. The way he looks at me twists me up inside with need.

His cock is hard, pointing straight up toward his firm stomach. I bypass it completely and cup his soft, tender balls, and they twitch in my hand. He sucks in a breath.