Page 7 of Erotic Temptations 2
“Could use a few more houseplants. Maybe a print of ‘Dogs Playing Poker’ for authenticity.” Not my best material, but my brain was running on about four hours of sleep and the residual trauma of rental car failure.
He grinned wider. “If you want to donate, I accept all major credit cards.”
I followed him down the hall to the kitchen. The tile felt cold under my socks, but the heat in the air made up for it. He flicked the lights on. Suddenly, I was fully awake.
Every surface gleamed. Real tile backsplash, butcher block counters, sunlight streaming through half-fogged windows. Okay, not sunlight… just tons of winter light, making the kitchen glow like a movie set. I couldn’t picture high school Ryan in this kitchen, but here he was, already pulling eggs and a carton of milk from the fridge.
“Breakfast?” He cracked eggs one-handed, like an actual grownup. “Or you one of those ‘no solid food until noon’ guys now?”
“I’d probably gnaw my own arm off if you didn’t feed me,” I said, leaning against the counter and instantly regretting it. The edge dug into my hip, but I was committed to the casual lean now.
Ryan turned on the stove, his hand right next to mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth. Not from the burner. From him. This was going to be a problem.
“Toast?” he offered, voice lower.
“Yeah. Nothing says gourmet like white bread and margarine.”
He laughed, deep and easy. “So, you’re still a cheap date.”
“Always.” God, I was basically advertising my loneliness. “Unless you’ve got something fancier than Folgers. Then I can pretend I have taste.”
Ryan poured coffee into a mug and slid it across the counter in my direction. His fingers brushed mine for maybe half a second too long. Or maybe I wanted it to be too long. The coffee was hot and bitter, but I took a gulp anyway.
He started whisking eggs in a bowl, looking suspiciously competent. My own cooking experience was mac and cheese. “You need help?” I offered. It came out lamer than intended.
Ryan’s eyebrow rose. “You help or supervise?”
“I’m an expert at both. Also judging from a safe distance.”
“No judging yet.” He grinned. “You can help with the eggs.”
He pulled me over, just like that. I tried to look like a person who wasn’t actively calculating the proximity of his body to mine, but it was impossible. He stood behind me, hand resting on my shoulder, then sliding down to cover my hand on the whisk.
“Like this,” he murmured, warm breath on my ear. “Don’t go too hard. You want them fluffy, not pulverized.”
My pulse had mostly stopped functioning at that point.
His hand guided mine in slow, steady circles. I could feel every part where his skin touched mine, even through the thin cotton of my sleeve. The egg mixture swirled, yellow and glossy, completely oblivious to the crisis in my body. I leaned back afraction, and his chest pressed up against my back, solid and familiar, even after all these years.
“Now add a little milk,” he said, not letting go. His other hand reached around to tip the carton in, and for a second, I thought I might pass out from the scent of his cologne. It wasn’t a name brand but something low-key and warm, like cedar and clean soap.
I managed to tip the milk without fumbling and spilling it all over myself. Total win.
He left his hand over mine for a moment, then stepped back. Instantly, my body missed the contact. I readjusted my posture, desperate not to look like I cared.
Ryan poured the eggs into the pan, moving with easy confidence. “You ever cook for yourself?”
“I have mastered cereal. Toast. And disappointment.”
He snorted. “Those are the classics.”
I watched him work the spatula, flipping the eggs until they looked maybe better than any eggs I’d ever seen in my life. How had I spent so many years microwaving sadness when this was an option?
He plated everything—eggs, crispy toast, even some bacon I didn’t remember him cooking.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Ryan said, setting my plate down with a flourish. His hand grazed my wrist, warm and rough. I tried very hard not to jump.
At the table, I picked up my fork and immediately dropped it. Not my proudest moment. Ryan laughed again, the kind of laugh that made my insides vibrate in a good way.