I shook the thought of the body cut from stone from my head.
I’d nurse my crush, I’d enjoy the banter while I crashed at his place, and then I’d force myself to get over it.
My phone chirped with a text and it broke the spell that held his eyes to mine. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had a new message from Quinn. I didn’t open it, though. Instead, I looked back at Jesse, who was running a hand through his hair as he stood.
He sighed deeply with an undertone of frustration. “I’ll leave you to your text. Do you have plans for tonight?”
I shook my head, feeling really lame.
“I was thinking we could cook dinner and just stay in,” he said.
“Together?”
“Yeah. You gotta start pulling your weight around here,” he said.
I smiled. “Once you taste my cooking, you’re never going to want me to move out,” I teased.
He grinned and then headed out of my room. Just before he disappeared down the hallway, I thought I heard him mutter, “Why do I get the feeling it won’t be just your cooking?”
I was certain he didn’t intend for me to hear him, but I had, and those words sent a shiver of desire through me.
You make it home okay last night? Quinn’s text asked.
Interesting question. I wasn’t sure how to answer her considering I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by “home.” Her definition and mine were likely not the same.
I wasn’t ready to get into that conversation with Quinn yet, so I lied in my reply. Yep.
Her reply came quick: Is the inside of Decadent Drake’s truck as sexy as the outside?
God, if she only knew what I knew about the object of her lust. If she knew about that tattoo, she wouldn’t stop until she got to see it for herself. I decided to keep that little nugget to myself, at least for now. But I knew I couldn’t keep my separation secret from my best friend for much longer, and then she’d want to know where I was staying, and she’d want me to stay with her. But I didn’t want to stay with her. I wanted to stay with Jesse. I wanted to get to know Jesse better, and I wanted to sleep next to him in his gorgeous bed after he spent the entire night making love to me.
Wait. I didn’t mean that last part.
Oh, who am I kidding? Yes I did.
Shit.
I was in big trouble.
I replied to Quinn with a smiley face and turned my phone off before joining Jesse in the kitchen. He was pulling ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. “What are we making?” I asked.
“Chicken marsala and mushroom risotto,” he said.
“Sounds delicious,” I said, my mouth already watering as I watched him gather everything we needed. He pulled out a cutting board, a meat mallet, the chicken, and some plastic wrap as he set up the station for pounding out the chicken, and then he motioned me over.
“Take your frustration with that two named asshole out on poor Charlie Chicken,” he said, handing me the mallet.
“Charlie Chicken?” I asked.
He winked at me. “I always name my food. Charlie Chicken, Tom Turkey, Bobby Beef, Fred Fish, Peter Porker.”
“Peter Porker? Like Spiderman? Peter Parker?”
He grinned. “You got it.”
“Weirdo,” I giggled as I took the mallet from him, our fingers accidentally brushing in the process as our eyes met again. I saw a heat pass through his eyes just as I felt a spark pass between us, and then Jesse dropped his hand quickly. He busied himself by pouring flour into a shallow dish as I went to work on Charlie.
I felt his presence behind me as he stood over my shoulder and watched me pound out the chicken.
“Not so hard,” he instructed.
I let up my pounding, hitting the side of the chicken.
“No,” he said, and I felt him move in closer behind me. “Like this.” He placed his hand over mine, lifted our joined hands, and hit firmly in the center of the chicken breast.
But, honestly, I had no idea that we’d just hit raw chicken with a kitchen mallet. All I could feel was the heat from his body standing behind my own and the sizzle from his hand over mine. I felt my body automatically lean back into him for more contact as he brought our joined hands up and back down again.
“Got it?” he breathed into my ear, his breath on my skin sending a tremor down my spine as I realized that his front completely ran the length of my back. I shivered and goose bumps broke out across my skin at his proximity. I felt the sinewy hardness of his muscles, and I was certain that I felt another hardness pressing lower against the base of my spine.
Was he as turned on as I was? Was it possible that the little flirtations that I kept brushing off were sincere?
Was it possible that someone like Jesse Drake was interested in me?