Page 6 of Allured (Love and Burlesque #1)
CHAPTER SIX
EZEKIEL
Starvation or salvation?
A t the moment I can’t remember if spontaneous human combustion has been disproven or not. What I am sure of is that after hearing that sentence leave this man’s mouth, I might become one of the recently recorded cases of the phenomenon.
My eyes dart from the flaky, delicious—smelling pastry to his amber eyes. I don’t know whether he’s joking or not but I can’t detect any malice from him. There’s nothing but anticipation as his own eyes lock on my face. We’re so close there’s not even a forearm’s breadth between our chests.
I’m hungry. I’m confused. I’m enthralled.
And I can’t resist. I don’t know what I’m feeling, and I don’t think that I want to reflect on the perplexity. For once in my life, I’m listening to my body and not my mind.
Without another word, I inch my face forward and wrap my lips around the morsel; attempting, but failing to look anywhere but in his eyes as I retreat from the fork. His expression is downright lustful, eyelids hooded and looking at me through his long, curled lashes.
I’m lost in the moment. A satisfied moan ripples through the air and it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from me.
Eyes widening, I step back and make the mistake of trying to breathe in while my mouth is still full of the appetizer. I’m mortified when I begin to gag. If I don’t die from choking, I’m sure the embarrassment I am feeling will finish the job. I ask myself, was that bite worth my potential death by trachea obstruction?
Backing away even further, I cough and bring my fingers to my lips, my other hand resting on the counter to catch myself. I can breathe. I’ve escaped death and only wounded my pride by a small amount.
“S’ry just a little hot,” I mumble after swallowing the rest of the bite. Not an outright lie. The food wasn’t extremely hot, but I felt like I was burning from being in his proximity.
“You alright?” The look of concern from him matches the softness in his voice as he sets the fork down on the counter and rests a hand on my forearm. Heat sears me from his touch. Were those thread—bare oven mitts so far gone that they burnt his hand and he’s now branding me in return?
That’s the only reasonable explanation for the feverishness that is radiating from our connected flesh. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why I’m feeling so flustered.
I lie to myself.
“I— I’m okay.” I nod. Humiliation settles within me as I move my arm away from his touch. I rub small circles around my chest and it feels like my hand is a physical barrier preventing the outpouring of emotions simmering beneath my fingertips.
He was only checking to make sure I wasn’t choking anymore, his touch was nothing else. I’m sure the chef of this meal wouldn’t want an attendee eating his food to choke on it. That must be why he had been so worried and kind.
Oh, hell. I need to let him know I was choking by accident. It had nothing to do with the quality of food. The food itself is divine and I wouldn’t want him thinking anything less.
“That was delectable, thank you.” The compliment leaves my lips once I’ve finally gathered my composure and I muster the courage to look up at him.
The smile that blooms on his face from my praise is one that I will never forget. What’s it mean when the little sign of pleasure from him, a pleasure that I caused, makes it feel like there’s a knot in the middle of my stomach?
“Thanks, man. I actually gotta get to finishing up the rest of these before they get appetizers out in twenty minutes.” The man points behind him and throws a little nod toward the counter where his food rests.
“Oh yes, of course. I didn’t mean to be a distraction.” Embarrassment sweeps me once again. What am I doing? Knight sent me in here to check on one simple thing and I haven’t even accomplished the menial task.
“Is the dietary checklist in order?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.” The man mocks a salute my way. He’s chuckling as he takes a list from his Hello Kitty apron and produces a marker from behind his ear to check off some items.
I would laugh with him but that knot in my stomach comes back full—force with how he addressed me. Sir . Many people have addressed me in such a manner, I should be accustomed to hearing it, but why did it sound so alluring coming from him?
“Ezekiel Adler, just Ezekiel is fine.” The words leave in a rush, as I speed things along to hopefully help me forget that jolt of something I experienced seconds ago.
“Well, Just Ezekiel. I’m Aleksander, but I go by Alek, he replies, sets the list down and continues, “your list is all taken care of, man.” He slides the list toward the opposite side of the prep station where I’m currently clutching the counter for my life.
“You gonna keep me company while I finish up?” Alek asks, twirling the marker between his fingers in a quick show of skill. In the fifteen or so minutes I’ve been in his presence, the man has yet to stay still for more than a moment or two. “I could use the company.”
Did I hear hope in his words? Does he want me to stay?
“Ezekiel!” I jump at the sound of Knight’s booming voice. A voice belonging to a man I would like to push into his stupid pond for interrupting whatever this is between Alek and I.
Unsure of what I’ve discovered, how I am feeling, or where my thoughts are going, I know one thing for certain. This can’t be the last I see of this man.
“I have an upcoming event.” Blurting out the words, I catch Alek’s stare once more. Knight yells for me once more. Now I know Alek certainly heard Knight and knows I need to leave soon. The man’s voice is hard to miss, after all.
“It seems I’m needed elsewhere…” I comment, knowing there are still things to prepare for the impromptu gala. Would it truly be so terrible if I was to stay in the kitchen during an event I don’t even want to attend? The temptation is all—encompassing.
“Wait. Your event?” Alek asks and if I’m not mistaken, I perceive some trepidation from him as well. His body shakes from where he is bouncing his leg. I’m sure he’s anticipating my next actions as much as I am dreading leaving him.
“Would you happen to have a card or some way to contact you for catering services?” This is my attempt at trying to keep everything at a somewhat professional level with the practical stranger whose eyes I’ve been staring deeply into for a quarter hour.
Perhaps I can even catch him after the gala and we can… oh, who am I kidding? I’m in no position to be flirting and admiring Alek, but being the strong—headed bastard I am, I also can’t allow for whatever I’m feeling to simply vanish.
“Nah, I don’t.” Alek’s voice sounds resigned but his face tells a different story. A slow, easy grin plays on his lips as he twirls the marker from behind his ear and wraps his thumb and forefinger around my wrist to drag me toward him.
“What are—” The question dies in my throat. He’s uncapping the marker with a pinch of his lips, the cap balanced between his teeth while he writes his number onto my upper forearm.
The numerals might as well be gibberish to me right now. I’m fixated on the plush of his mouth around the marker cap. Never in my life would I have thought I would be jealous of a marker.
“Text anytime, Ez.” My thoughts are interrupted by his sultry tone and the even sultrier wink he gifts me before getting back to work. How Alek manages to keep his composure while I am a melting mess of a man, I do not know.
“Of course, Alek.” I manage to say. It feels like I have to drag my body away from his gravitational pull when it wants nothing more than to stay within his orbit.
A louder shout of my name kicks my departure into gear. Right , I need to leave. I turn around and haul my unwilling body out of the kitchen. And away from the man who has stolen my breath away, quite literally.
Once I am in the main hallway I peer down at my arm, and without hesitation, I memorize his phone number. The numbers scribed in pigmented black ink are signed off with a winking smiling face. I purse my lips to contain a smile and shake my head at the ridiculousness of it.
I fear Alek has branded me with more than just ink.