Page 35 of Decidedly Off Limits

“No, you look good.”As always. I placed the bags on the counter.

She went back to chopping the onions while I unpacked the groceries. This time she made sure to chop them like we’d been taught to do.

I dumped what she had cut into the large saucepan and retrieved my own knife from a bag. Impressive, huh? I thought so. I’d bought it when I picked up the food. Because I hadn’t bothered to do much cooking before, my knife supply had been woefully lacking.

Not anymore.

Now that I’d had a taste of how much fun cooking could actually be, I’d already watched a few shows on the Food Network and was eager to try out the recipes.

Of course, I didn’t plan to tell Josh this. Otherwise he’d accuse me of trading in my nuts for a pair of ovaries.

“Nice knife.” Kelsey looked at the pitiful thing she was using and then back at mine. “It’s so big.”

“Well, you know what they say about the size of a man’s knife,” I said, unable to resist.

Her blush? Totally made the comment worth it.

A comfortable silence blanketed us as we focused on slicing the vegetables and not our fingers. But despite that, the air sizzled with the same energy that had crept up between us during the class. And it was taking every inch of inner strength not to lift her up onto the counter and show her how I felt about her.

To taste her skin.

To explore her.

While the caramelized onions and the rest of the ingredients simmered, Kelsey and I got to work on the ravioli. Neither of us owned a pasta maker, so we had to roll the dough out the hard way.

Using the rolling pin, Kelsey flattened the dough while I prepared the filling. When she tried to remove it from the counter, part of the dough stuck to it and ripped in half. “That’s not good. It was a lot easier with the pasta maker.”

Had to agree with her there.

I mixed the chopped shallots and mushrooms and added the cream. Kelsey continued working on the dough. The finished product wasn’t quite like the one from class—the dough nowhere near as thin—but I didn’t think our friends would complain. Hey, as long as it tasted good, that was all that mattered.

And, Christ, I hoped it tasted good, or else I’d never hear the end of it from Josh.

Next was the dessert.

“You wanna make the dough?” she asked, reading the recipe.

“Sure, unless you want me to slice up the apples.” I was fine doing either one.

“No, I can do them.” She grinned that smile that always made my heart trip over itself. “Can I borrow your knife? Mine’s too wimpy.”

“You think you can handle it?”Good going, dumbass.There was no missing the innuendo in my voice.

Kelsey’s blush from earlier was nothing compared to now. “I’m sure I can handle your knife just fine,” she replied. But in contrast to her blush, her tone held a your-place-or-mine breathlessness—and my cock got excited.

Before I could stop myself, “I’d be all for that” slipped out.

She bit her lip, her gaze raising tomylips. But just as I was contemplating tossing my best-friend rules out the window, she flinched. “Ouch!”

Blood dripped from a cut on her finger. I grabbed a paper towel from the roll perched on the table. “I don’t think you were supposed to cut off your finger.”

“Oops! I must have misread the instructions.” Despite the stinging pain she was no doubt experiencing, her tone was like a helium-filled birthday balloon floating free in the sky.

Fighting back the urge to kiss her silly, I rinsed the wound and wrapped her finger with the paper towel. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Downstairs bathroom. Top drawer.”

I returned a few minutes later, removed the paper towel from her cut, and replace it with a bandage. “It’s not too bad. You’ll survive.”