Page 89 of With a Cherry On Top

How long until you’re done?” I ask Roman, Kyle’s cousin.

He glares at me, the kind of look that says I’ve asked one too many times, so I hold up my hands in surrender and turn back to the stove. The oil in the pan crackles as I let a drop of water test its heat, and when I lay the salmon down, the satisfying sizzle fills the kitchen. The rich scent of searing seafood rises, mingling with the citrus tang as I squeeze a lemon over the fish, the juice hissing.

I check my phone for the time and notice a missed call from Amelie. Especially after what Charlotte and I did yesterday, I’m desperate to confide in someone, but I can’t talk to her about this. She’d tell Ian, and I’d lose my job.

“A lot more?”

“Jeez, Aaron. Let him work,” Kyle says from the couch.

I fuckingtoldhim not to sit on the couch.

I check the time again. Charlotte isn’t home yet but she could be any minute, and the last thing I want is to explain that the two guys in her kitchen are fixing the microwave door she ripped off when I was eating her pussy.

She hasn’t brought any of it up since—in fact, she hasn’t spoken to me at all, or even looked at me all of yesterday, for that matter. Maybe the second she got what she wanted I became old news. Boring. Maybe she’s on to the next target and nothing will ever come out of what happened here yesterday. Hell, in the blur of my paranoia, I even visited her profile on TOP, but she wasn’t there.

But hey, if shedidmove on, it’s good, right? I mean, the thought of not touching her ever again feels like a lion is feasting on my innards, but it’sgood. Or at least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.

“Okay, it’s fixed.”

“Seriously?”

Roman opens and closes the microwave door with exaggerated care, proving that it no longer hangs loose. “Seriously.”

“Oh, thank fuck. How much do I owe you?”

He makes apfftnoise. “You’re Kyle’s friend.”

“No, I insist.” I tap my foot. “Send me an invoice. Kyle will give you my email. Now, please leave.”

He gathers his tools, waves, and finally,finally, walks out. I turn back to the salmon just in time to stop it from burning, and when I look over my shoulder, Kyle is still lounging on the couch, watching me with a curious expression.

“Get the fuck out before they come back home, Kyle.”

“Are you okay, man?”

Why is he still here? “Yes.”

“Really? ’Cause you look like shit.”

“Sadie is struggling to sleep through the night.” Not a lie, but also not completely true. If Sadie weren’t keeping me up with her nightmares, my own would.

“Okay. Well?—”

The door opens, and my blood pressure spikes. I can feel it—blood pumping harder, sweat gathering on the back of my neck.

Kyle moves fast, ducking behind the couch like a reflex just as Charlotte steps into the kitchen. She crosses the room without hesitation and stops in front of me, close enough that the scent of her skin and the heat of her body scramble every coherent thought in my brain.

I have no idea what to expect. Did she tell her mom? Is she upset? Is she here to end whatever this is before it fully begins? Will she destroy more appliances?

“I need an orgasm,” she says, voice casual. “And not just any orgasm—I need one of yours. One that makes me forget to breathe, that hits even harder because you talk me through it using a corny pet name. I need the Chef’s Special. I needyou.” She runs her finger from my throat to the tip of my chin, tilting it slightly. “So come to my bedroom and get on your knees for me, Chef.”

My heart flatlines.

She turns and walks away, her white sundress swaying with every step.

I’m still frozen in place when Kyle’s head pops up from behind the couch, eyes wide with disbelief and just a hint of amusement.

“I—” My throat is dry. Holy shit, I can’t believe he just heard all of that.