Page 5 of Allured (Love and Burlesque #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

ALEK

Taste it for me.

M y not—so—secret and not—so—subtle admirer has me doubled over in laughter. I can’t help it. I’ve never heard someone with such a serious tone and a look that screams Clark Kent say the word ‘sus’ before.

Letting out the last of my laugh, I tuck away my headphones and marvel at the shy smile the man is offering me.

“It means I’ve seen you staring at me for the past five minutes, man,” I reply in a friendly tone, wiping a tear from my eye as I finally calm down enough to talk to him.

“It means you were being suspicious, but I figured you were just watching the food.” I know damn well the food wasn’t what had him drooling, but I want to see where this goes.

“Yes, well– your technique is quite precise.”

I notice how he completely leapt at the chance to cover his staring, and that’s alright. I’ll let it pass. My quiet little Clark Kent is blushing so hard I think those sexy glasses of his might fog up if I tease him any further.

I might tease him a bit more though. I’m no saint and the blush looks damn good on that handsome face. I lick my bottom lip as I brace both my hands on the counter and eye him the way he was eyeing me moments ago. It’s only fair.

A soft—looking, navy blue v—neck sweater with the oxford collar of a dress shirt peeking out fits his lean build perfectly. He stands only a few inches shorter than me. Along with the dark gray slacks and polished black shoes he’s got on, he definitely doesn’t look like another one of the dozen workers hurrying around the place to get the event set up. He looks more like a hot librarian I’m dying to have shush me for being too loud.

Who is this guy?

There’s a permanent furrow on the pale skin of his brow, almost like he’s squinting even though he’s wearing glasses. It’s got me wondering if the guy ever relaxes. Maybe he’s observing, or taking me in, or something. But it’s what’s behind those glasses that has me in my own creeper moment.

Holy shit. His eyes. The perfect shade of azul in them has me hypnotized, feeling drunk and sober at the time in a way I can’t put into understandable words. I can’t stop staring but it’s not like he’s breaking away either. He’s not backing down, lost in the moment like me. His thick, black eyelashes slowly close and open as he blinks, those milliseconds are the only break he gives me from staring into those endless pools of dark blue. It’s cliché as fuck but it feels like time really has frozen.

“ Mierda !” I jolt when a timer goes off on the counter, freeing us from our game of gay chicken as I twist to grab it and turn it off.

“Sorry, gotta get these.” I change the stove settings with one hand, and with my other hand, I reach into the pocket of my apron. My Hello Kitty oven mitts don’t work as well as they used to but I love them too much to get rid of them. They were one of Viv’s first sewing projects and I’m going to keep using them even if it means I need to be quick about taking shit out of the oven.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him brush one of his elegant hands against the side of his neck. The moment we shared is gone and I could cry for the sudden sense of loss I’m feeling.

“I— uh, Knight sent me here to check on the dietary restrictions list,” he murmurs.

“Oh, are you an event planner or assistant?” I ask as I take the empanadas out of the oven, fully aware I’m giving him a view most people pay for back at the burlesque club. If there’s an exaggerated bend to my waist and a little pop to my ass, I don’t hear him complaining about it.

It’s the opposite, really. I can feel his stare burning into my back.

A throat clears behind me and I smile to myself before sliding the empanadas onto a cooling rack.

When I look back at him, I find it cute how much he’s purposely not looking in my direction. I’m sure the kitchen backsplash is what’s got color in those cheeks and not my award—winning ass.

“Well no, I’m an attendee that was somehow swindled into helping out.” He’s stepped a little closer by this point. He’s actually taking an admiring look at my food now and not only using it as a bad excuse for checking me out.

On one counter there’s some gazpacho soup topped with ceviche and garnished with cilantro that I need to get into the fridge soon. The other counter holds my fresh out the oven beef and veggie empanadas on cooling racks.

I love how he can’t keep himself from eyeing the steaming pastries. A man lusting after my food is a man lusting after my heart.

“Ah, a guest, huh? I guess you’ll have to wait for a taste, then.”

There’s a low growl somewhere. I can’t really tell if it’s coming from his throat or stomach but it’s got me feeling proud, either way.

“Surely, you need a taste tester?”

His tone betrays the joke and there’s a little pleading in his voice that’s sexy as fuck. I figure he might have come into the kitchen on Knight’s behalf but I know a hungry man when I see one. The guy was practically salivating when he came through the doorway. As he damn well should. My cooking is amazing.

Grabbing a fork, I cut into one of the extra empanadas and prepare a small sample for him. He stares at me the entire time, his eyes fixated on my hands and the food equally. I’m realizing how much I like this guy’s eyes on me. I should really get his name at some point. And his number.

“It’s a little hot.” The fork is clutched in my hand as I take a few steps forward to where Clark Kent is around the counter. Fuck it, I’m flirting. I’m not a professional here. I’m just a guy who can cook and is under no contract or code of conduct.

Standing right in front of him, I bring the fork between our faces, a scooped hand underneath the tip of the utensil in case there’s any fallout.

There’s an idea flowing in my brain, part one of my seduction of securing his number. Oh, Clark Kent has no idea what he’s in for. I’m sure my grin looks feral to him at this point.

“Let me blow on it for you,” I whisper. My lips part and we’re so close that I’m feeling more heat coming from him than from the pastry. A gentle puff of air leaves my lips and I see the steam of the food travel toward his gaping mouth. His lightly stubbled jaw trembles only inches from my fingers.

Screw it, here goes part two of my seduction.

“Taste it for me.”

He makes a soft, involuntary sound as his lips wrap around the fork. Never once does he take his eyes off of me as he chews and fuck, do I find that eye contact hot.