Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
DYLAN
My eyes flicker to the thermometer. One-sixty-two or so. Not quite there. I turn my attention back to the bacon and eggs in the pan.
I can feel Larson’s eyes on me. He’s sitting at the counter behind me. Watching me. Wearing nothing but his underwear. God, I could look at him all day. He’s just breathtaking. I can’t take a proper breath when he’s around.
I’ve never made a New Year’s resolution. Maybe when I was a kid, but not with adult level seriousness. Yet, this morning as I lay in bed beside Larson with his head on my chest and his big hand on my hip while he slept, I found myself thinking, this year, I need to keep this man.
A glance at the thermometer says it’s time for milk. The pan contents are fine, so I slide down the counter and reach for the milk. Just a little. Perfect. Next one. Yep. And there we go. Now the temperature is exactly one-fifty.
With a pleased smile, I pick up one mug and bring it to Larson. “Best tea you’ll ever drink,” I tell him.
He looks in the cup and then smiles when he meets my eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve had a cup of tea before, so even if it’s the worst, it’ll also be the best.”
I roll my eyes but can’t contain my smile. While I know I need to go back to the food, I can’t move from this spot until he takes a sip. I watch intently as he brings the cup to his lips and takes a tentative swallow.
“You’ve hit the sweet spot in temp,” he notes.
There’s no containing my grin. See? This is why I’m so particular. It’s hot, but not so hot that you burn yourself. Not so hot that you can’t taste the flavor.
“It’s good,” Larson says.
Even if he’s lying, I’ll take it. Turning back to the stove, I stop on the way by and press the lever down on the toaster. The pan sizzles when I flip the eggs. Finished. Great. I turn the burner off and grab a couple of plates. Two eggs and three bacon for Larson. One each for me.
I quickly wash the pan. The toaster pops up just as I set the pan back on the stove to dry. A slight coating of butter, and I place two slices on the plate for Larson before sliding him his plate. The half slice I stuck in there is for me.
As I sit next to him with my plate, I examine his bulk. He looks enormous at my counter. His presence makes my house look small.
Larson takes a bite and gives a little ‘Mmm’ in response. “That’s all you’re going to eat?” he asks once he’s swallowed his mouthful.
I glance at my plate. “Yes. My breakfasts are usually small. I eat larger dinners.” I look at his plate and then at his chest. “That’s not going to be enough to fill you, is it?”
He flashes me a wide grin. “I’ll stop for a second breakfast later.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I could eat most people bankrupt. Though I’m trying not to eat quite so much when I’m not working off the calories right now.”
We eat in silence until the plates are cleared. Larson starts to get to his feet, but I push him back down. “I have this.”
“You cooked. I can clean,” Larson says.
“It’s two plates,” I point out. “Not a big deal.”
He doesn’t argue as he sits back down and turns back to his tea. “You don’t have to work today?” he asks as I head to the sink.
“Nope. I give myself a few days off around New Year’s. I may head in for a few hours tomorrow to get through some editing.”
I can see Larson nod in the corner of my eye. “Do you have plans?”
“That depends.”
“On me?”
His smile is wide. “Yes.”
“Do you need to stop at your room to change for anything?”
“Yeah, briefly.”
“Will Tomy be there?”
Larson is shrugging when I turn to face him, drying off my hands. “Dunno. He’s fine, though. I promise.”
“I feel guilty,” I admit. “I might not have come right out and stolen you in front of him, but I still feel like I interfered.”
Larson comes around the counter and pulls me to his chest. He’s so damn tall. Even my tallest heels wouldn’t put my eyes at his chin! A rush of excitement rushes through me. I love feeling so small around him.
“You’ll see. Promise he’s fine. He’s not upset.”
“Well…” I glance to the side and out the window. “Oh! I can set him up. There are so many great men here.”
He chuckles. “We’ll see if he’s interested.”
“Okay. If you don’t have plans, want to go snorkeling off Etsumi? The shore is shallow for ages, and there are some really cool spots to see if we wade out far enough.”
“Sounds good.”
I smile. “Great. I’ll get dressed. Also…
I’ve been told I’m a little much to handle sometimes.
” I pull away and head for the bathroom so I don’t have to see his expression.
He follows, and my cheeks heat. “I’ve been so off-balance from this strange reaction to you that I don’t think you’ve gotten good exposure to me, so if I become too much, just tell me. ”
His hands land on my shoulders, and I stop just out of view of the mirror. Larson pulls me backward, and my back hits his chest. I inhale deeply as his arms wrap around my chest. “You’re perfect, Dylan. All of you. I can’t wait to see all shades of you.”
Holy fuck, he’s going to turn me to goo. How is this man single? I shift to look at him over my head. He was made for me. I know it. I knew it from the moment our eyes met. Not just in bed but in all ways.
Without answering, for fear that I’m really going to blather or something, I move toward the sink and begin my facial routine. Larson remains by the door, leaning against the frame and watching me. I wait for him to get bored or hurry me along, but he appears content enough just to watch.
Finally, I face him when I’m done. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you have a skincare routine? You can use whatever of mine, or if you have something specific in your room?”
He laughs. “No. I wash my face in the shower.”
“Oh no,” I say, horrified. “With your body wash?”
“Or my shampoo if it runs down my face.”
Larson’s laughter at my appalled expression echoes off the walls. “No. No, that won’t do. Come here.”
Obediently, Larson comes closer. I sit him on the closed toilet seat and grab a fresh washcloth. I heat it up with hot water and put it on his face to dampen his skin and open his pores. First, a fresh shave.
I set the cloth aside and get his jaw and neck lathered with cream. Not the kind that makes a thick coat of white foam. This is thinner, doesn’t clump up like foam, and you can see the skin through a light layer of softening gel.
I’m careful as I follow the obvious path of where he shaves and what he leaves behind. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tense. His eyes remain locked on my face. As much as I’d love to stare into his pretty eyes, I don’t look away from my task of shaving him until he’s exactly neat.
While I clean the blade off, I put the hot, wet cloth back on his face. I have shave oil somewhere. It takes me several minutes to find it. It’s not often that I let my facial hair grow. I have to be in a mood.
Then I wash him using my little finger sponge, gently making small circles all around his cheeks, nose, and eyes.
His hands rest on the backs of my thighs.
They’re like two hot irons that feel as if they’re slowly burning me.
I’m not sure I’ve ever washed someone’s face before.
Standing over him like this with his eyes closed to keep the soap out, I’m able to examine every inch of him without feeling awkward for staring.
The shape of his face is rugged. Masculine. Pronounced cheekbones. Nose slightly crooked. There’s a faded scar just above his right eyebrow. A longer one by his ear.
I scrub his facial hair to get it nice and fresh before proceeding with cleaning the soap from his skin with a hot cloth that’s just barely not dripping wet. Next is drying him, which I primarily let the air do.
I love touching him, memorizing his face with my fingers as the next step of toner goes on. I need to close his pores and not fill them with anything else. That’s how zits happen. Moisturizer is next on his bare skin, and then beard oil. Lastly, I use the tiny comb to brush out his beard.
When I finally look at him. His eyes are open, his lips curved in a soft smile.
“Thank you,” he says, voice quiet. “I enjoyed that a lot.”
“I’d be happy to do it every morning,” I say, and then inwardly flinch. It felt so intimate. Maybe more so than sex. I mean, he did trust me with a blade to his neck. What’s more intimate than that?
His hands on the backs of my legs pull me closer. I’m already practically against him, so I lean down and press my lips to his. Not sexy. Just… domestic. Romantic.
“I’m going to get dressed,” I whisper.
Larson nods.
As with the bathroom, Larson joins me and watches as I get ready for the day.
The only time I get more than a warm smile as he watches is when he sees my wall of shoes in the closet.
His eyes widen, and then he laughs. “Wow. Not what I was expecting.” His fingers trail against a slinky silver pair with a wicked heel. “What do you wear these with? Where?”
“That’s a super sexy piece. I’ll show you one day,” I promise as I take a pair of wedge sandals from the shelf. I still need to get my toes cleaned up, but that’ll have to wait.
Once I’m ready and turn to him with a smile, his finger trails along my jaw. “You’re the most stunning person I’ve laid eyes on, Dylan,” he murmurs. “You take my breath away, both raw and dolled up.”
My heart nearly comes out of my chest. “Let’s go,” I whisper. “Before we climb back into bed and I make you squeal like a dolphin.”
His laughter is sexy, low. He wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my feet off the floor. “I’m volunteering for that later. For now, I need some fresh clothes, and then you can show me your favorite spots on Kala.”
Larson asks a lot of questions about living on Kala as we walk toward the docks.
After I lock my phone and keys in the lockers, we stop at the bulletin board showing the islands’ expansion project.
He asks about the reminder that voting for the last island’s name will happen at the next town meeting, which leads to me telling him all about the meetings as we take the ferry to Anapos where he’s staying.
I stop outside his door, and he takes my hand, pulling me inside. Sure enough, Tomy’s there. He’s sitting on the balcony with a book, but turns toward us as the door opens. I’m not sure I’d smile like he is at me if the situation were reversed.
Larson kisses the top of my head and heads into the bathroom. This isn’t awkward at all.
“Hey,” Tomy says.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I didn’t mean to steal your… date?”
Tomy laughs. “Not a big deal. I’m not secretly in love with him or anything. It happens. You’re better for him than I am.” He shrugs.
I’m confident he didn’t mean it in the way I took it, but I flinch. “I can set you up on a date,” I offer. “I know some really great guys.” I glance at the book in his hand. “And girls,” I add.
He watches me with amusement. “I’m good. Thanks.”
Larson returns from the bathroom and grabs a change of clothes from the closet. He strips down and changes right there, which has me staring at him. He laughs. “I’m used to being surrounded by men when I strip,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, slightly baffled.
“Locker room. Communal space.” He shrugs. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I don’t even think about it anymore, so… sorry.”
Tomy laughs, shaking his head, and heads back to the balcony.
“You staying in today?” Larson asks.
“No, I’m heading to the spa in a bit. Let some hottie grope me and make me groan for a while.”
Larson grins. “Cool. See you later.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the door. “See?” he says once we’re in the hall. “He’s good.”
“That was still awkward,” I mutter.
“My fault. I should have dragged you into the bathroom, but I’m not sure that would have been less awkward for anyone involved.”
I snort.