Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Angelo’s hands trembled slightly as he stood in his kitchen debating what to do.
Kara’s apprehension at his restaurant had left him cautious, but the flash of fear in her eyes that she tried to hide from him, had left him shaking with fury.
To think someone who meant her harm had been in his world filled him with a dark and blinding rage he’d never experienced before.
I can’t lose her.
That revelation wasn’t exactly a new one. It had been building inside him over the last few days, but he’d been too afraid to face it until now.
It was shattering the rules he’d set for himself. He had never let his anger turn him into something dangerous, nor would he ever surrender his moral compass by asking the Italian mob for help. But for Kara? The answer was blindly clear. He’d do anything for her. Anything.
“Angelo?” Kara reached out and took one of his hands, holding it.
Could she feel those tremors? Would she think he wasn’t strong enough to protect her?
He met her gaze, her worried eyes were large, luminous and full of questions.
He couldn’t tell her what he was feeling, he couldn’t show her how terrified he was of what he was about to do, to go against everything he’d believed in for so long for her.
She’d never be okay with it. It would destroy her and she’d run.
He couldn’t stop what was coming, but he could delay it for a bit by distracting her.
“Are you hungry?” he changed the subject.
Please be hungry, he thought. Cooking would calm him down.
“Yes?” she answered with uncertainty and that did quite a bit to dispel the rage in him.
“You aren’t sure?” he asked with a hint of teasing.
“Yes, I mean yes. I’m sure. I’m hungry,” she replied with finality, and he chuckled, which eased the remaining tension in his chest.
“I’m going to teach you how to make spaghetti.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But that’s easy. You just throw the noodles in the pot and—”
“Oof!” He mimed being stabbed in the heart. “Kara, tesoro mio, that is grocery store spaghetti. I will teach you how to make your own pasta noodles and sauce. All by hand.”
“Oh?” Her brows furrowed. “Is it hard? I’m not a good cook.”
Angelo pulled her close, still holding her hand in one of his as he used his other palm to cup her cheek.
“That’s why I’m going to teach you.”
“Okay.” She smiled a little more relaxed. “This could be fun.”
Behind Kara, Asher passed through the living room with a window repairman behind him.
The bedroom window would be fixed today and Angelo was relieved there would be no reminder of Kara’s attempt to run.
He wanted her to feel safe enough to stay with him.
Kara’s trust and safety were such a fragile thing, and he feared anything he did or that happened would send her running.
He wanted her to stay, wanted to know if what he felt could lead to something more… if she felt the same.
He knew he was obsessed, was fascinated…
was tangled up in her in a way he’d never been with anyone else.
It wasn’t because he wanted to play the rescuer, the hero, no it was something entirely different.
Even now as she stood in the kitchen with him, helping him collect ingredients when he told her where they were, it was so…
normal, so real in a way that made everything else feel… so unimportant.
The world seemed to stop when she was near.
Everything was calm, utterly still. Like he was standing outside on dark, snowy night, and the snowflakes hung suspended in the air all around him as he drew in a deep breath and clarity filled his entire being.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life beside Kara, watching her taste life’s pleasures, share her joys and be her port when storms of grief swept the vast seas of her heart.
He wanted to be everything and anything she needed.
When he was with her, he felt like the most alive version of himself he’d ever been.
Being with her felt easy, because he could be himself.
“Angelo?” Kara asked, her blue eyes soft and wide, her dark golden lashes framing the windows to her wounded soul. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He tried to smile but the depth of his emotions at the moment were almost overpowering.
He cleared his throat. “First we need some aprons.” He dug around in the drawers where he kept his dozens of aprons and pulled out two.
He tossed one on himself and then helped Kara into hers.
He tied the strings at her lower back and gave her hips a gentle squeeze before he brushed his lips against her cheek from behind.
She shivered in his arms and he closed his eyes briefly, relishing holding her against him. Then he forced himself to let her go.
He retrieved flour and eggs from where Kara had placed them on another counter and set up a station on the kitchen island counter where opened his container of fine Italian flour. He sifted the flour into the appropriate measuring cups and showed Kara the next step.
“You make a mountain here on the counter.” He showed her how to push the flour into a mound like a volcano. “Now you ball your fist.” She balled her fist immediately at his direction. “And press it down into the center of the flour mountain to create a crater.”
Angelo cracked two eggs and let her drop the egg yolks and whites into the crater Kara had made with her hand.
“Then you use a fork,” he instructed. “I want you to break the yolks and whisk them together inside the crater.”
“Okay.” She whisked with excellent skill and then waited for the next instructions.
“That was well done. Where did you learn to whisk like that?”
Her cheeks colored with a rosy blush. “I’ve worked at a few diners. I never learned to cook on a grill, but I did whip up the occasional scrambled egg or too. Eggs were the cheapest protein I could afford so eggs were my go-to meal for breakfast.”
He resisted the urge to hug her at sharing so much. He hated knowing that she’d gone for long periods of time during her days on just an egg. It wasn’t enough.
“Now, use your fork to pull the flour in and start making the dough mixture.”
While she did that, he pulled out a bench knife.
“It might get a little messy,” he warned as he came up behind her and showed her how to knead the dough.
His fingers covered hers as they pressed and pulled the dough together to keep mixing it.
He showed her how to use the bench knife to scoop up the remaining flour and eggs to add it back to the mixture, while keeping Kara’s body between him and the counter.
Her body was soft and warm, her round ass pressing teasingly against his groin.
Her cheeks were flushed as he stroked his knuckles down her arm teasingly.
They were going to get flour everywhere, but he didn’t really care.
He continued to whisper instructions to her, relishing the way the wild waves of her hair tickled his chin and the faint vanilla scent of her shampoo made him hungry for her in a way he’d never felt for any woman before.
It felt so primal, so raw, that hunger that burned in his veins. This woman made him ravenous.
“Who knew making spaghetti was so…” her voice trailed off.
“So sensual?” He mused as he once more guided her hands with his to knead and press the dough over and over. What he really wanted to do was cup and knead her luscious breasts. He wanted to hear her catch her breath as he nibbled on her ear, but he had to content himself with this instead.
“Umm…” She was breathing a little faster now as he lightly pressed his hips against her from behind, letting her feel his hard cock nestled against her round ass. He should have taught her this lesson naked he realized with regret. Next time, he vowed.
His mouth pressed to her ear and he flicked his tongue inside the delicate whorl. She gasped, tensing and pressing back against him instinctively.
“Angelo…” his name with a breathless sigh that sounded like heaven when it came from her.
“Keep kneading the dough,” he commanded as he slid one hand down her side to between her legs. Even though she wore jeans he was able to cup her between her legs, rubbing her clit through the fabric.
“Oh God…” she jerked in response.
“Don’t stop,” he reminded with a playful chuckle. She pounded the ball of dough against the counter aggressively as he started up a rhythm of rubbing and pressing against her pussy.
She rocked her hips against his hand as she tried to keep working but he knew his touches and caresses were completely distracting her, just the way he hoped they would.
Her breath sped up as his mouth moved from her ear to her neck.
He lightly brushed her red hair away from her creamy skin.
He kissed and licked her and then lightly bit her throat as she let out a breathless shriek.
Her hips jerked against his palm between her legs as she came apart.
She sagged back against him seconds later, relaxed and panting.
He used his strength to hold her in place.
It was the most amazing feeling in the world to have this woman relax against him.
You’re safe with me, he silently whispered, hoping her body would always know that when he touched her.
He nuzzled her cheek, kissed it and gently balled up the dough that she’d scrunched in her hands. He reached for the saran wrap he’d set out on the counter earlier and wrapped the dough inside it.
“You okay?” he asked, his body still gently pressed to hers.
She giggled, the sound husky. It made him almost drunk with joy. He loved the relaxed and happy sounds she made.
“You’re terrible,” she finally said as he stepped away to put the dough in the fridge to chill. “You were supposed to be teaching me how to make spaghetti. Not getting me off like that.”
“But I did and you liked it,” he added to her statement. She blushed with a nod. He came back over to her and grasped the bottom of her apron, using it to pull her toward him so she was in his arms again.