Chapter 12
Rex
Standing shoulder to shoulder at a sterile kitchen counter an hour later, Gwen’s eyes light up as she takes in what the chef in front of us is saying. I try to tell myself to listen, but all I see is her. All I feel is her. Her beauty and the way it still steals my breath away are all-consuming.
I watch her pick up the butter and toss it into the pan. She moves the pot to the center burner on the stove next to her. I smile as she looks up at me before grabbing the next ingredient.
“You need to be listening,” she scolds me quietly. “Besides, I’m doing all the work here, Rex.”
“But I love watching you work,” I tease, which earns me a swat on the shoulder. “Okay, Okay,” I concede. “What goes next?”
Coming up behind her, I cage in her against the counter. I nestle my lips against her bare neck and watch as goosebumps break out on her arms. I trail a finger up her side and hear her sharp intake of breath.
Reaching in front of her, I grab the flour to add to the roux for the first course we are learning to make in this New Orleans-inspired cooking class I found at the last minute while searching online last night.
Another one of her bucket list items, not mine, but what the hell.
At this point, I’ve surrendered like a fool, and I’m all about whatever makes her happy.
Besides, nothing gives me more pleasure than feeling her pushed up against me like she is right now, wanting me to do things to her on this counter that would blow her fucking mind.
The teacher says something about making sure whatever is in our pot resembles a blonde roux, and I could honestly care less.
Running my hands across Gwen’s stomach, I pull her ass closer so she can feel what her presence does to me.
A slight gasp escapes her lips when she feels how hard I am.
Moving her ponytail to the side, I kiss her neck and try to restrain myself from doing more.
Like fucking her on this damn counter.
Gwen picks up the whisk and starts imitating the teacher’s movements.
Standing tall, she straightens herself against the counter and clears her throat, attempting to pay attention.
Smiling, I wait until I see she is focused and then blow on the area my lips were resting on just a few minutes earlier.
Gwen’s movements falter slightly as she gives into the pull we have on one another, but then she starts stirring the damn pot again.
Not in the relenting mood, I grab around her waist, lower my hand, and run my fingers across her center, lightly at first and then harder as I circle the spot I know brings her the most pleasure.
A low moan escapes her lips. Her head falls back against my shoulder slightly before she gains control of her senses and pushes me away.
We earn a scolding look from the instructor, which makes us both laugh.
“Now for the trinity. Onions, celery, and bell peppers,” the instructor says.
Rolling my eyes, I take my position next to Gwen and watch as she adds the ingredients individually. Smiling, my heart melts, knowing I’m closer to heaven than I have been in a long time.
Maybe things could be different this time.
Maybe I could give her what she wants if she still wants me to.
Even though there is a part of me that wonders if I will run when she gets too close, give into the shit that still haunts me in my past, the more I spend time around her, the more I want to take the chance.
“How did you remember I wanted to take a cooking class?” she asks.
“Well, remember that one time my parents were out of town, like always, and you came over to escape your parent’s fighting,” I say, taking the next ingredient the instructor mentions and adding it to the pot when it’s time.
Gwen stirs the pot before looking up at me and giving me a nod to continue.
“You wanted to cook a meal, and we spent all night in the kitchen only to end up with burnt chicken, overcooked vegetables, and a soggy dessert. After we ate the only edible thing left, the garlic bread, I couldn’t let the last meal we cooked together be so bad now, could I?”
Gwen laughs. “You remember that? Oh Lord, I totally forgot about that night.”
My mind traces back to it. Fuck yes, I remember.
I remember the way we laughed outside on that patio before she climbed onto my lap and stole another piece of my heart as I watched her breathless and panting my name thirty minutes later.
God, how could I forget? She still left me a month later without any explanation.
I knew she was pissed I had spent time with Christina Thompson, but that was to throw the football team off our scent. People were beginning to talk, and I knew her parents would be mad if they found out about us, knowing my reputation around school and my mother’s around town.
Still, in her mind, I will always be a jackass for the nights I didn’t call, or our missed late night dates.
In hindsight, they were all part of a different plan.
A plan to not let her get too close to my heart.
Even though it failed because no woman has ever been able to satisfy or complete me the way Gwen does. The way she always will.
“Well, hopefully, this dish will redeem my bad cooking skills from when I was seventeen,” she smiles, adding another ingredient to the pot.
“It wasn’t your bad cooking skills I remember most, but more the great skills you showed me with your mouth later that night that made it one for the record books, sweetheart,” I tease, trying to forget the shit in our past that keeps bubbling up like the shit in that damn pot she is stirring.
She blushes as she adds another cup of some vegetable shit to the growing pot on the stove. Never looking up at me, she whispers, “You weren’t so bad yourself, Roberts. Now stop it, and let me concentrate on making you a meal you’ll never forget.”
She has no fucking idea.
She’s the only thing I want for the rest of my life and then some. The thought scares the shit out of me just like it did before. Only this time, I think I might be able to face it. At least, I hope I can.
Eventually, I say, “I’m content just watching you. I’ve never seen cooking look so sexy.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “Keep talking like that, Rex, and I might just have to prove you wrong.”
“Oh, please do,” I say, coming closer and whispering in her ear. “There are a million fantasies I’ve had since watching you start stirring that pot, Gwen.”
“Do any of them involve stirring your pot later, Rex? Because I’m afraid you’ll be entirely disappointed if so. I don’t put out on the first date,” she smirks.
“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t our first then, Gwen.
Because I have plans for your fine ass and that smart mouth of yours later,” I whisper.
“Like you wearing nothing but an apron, bending over to get something out of the stove, before I grab you from behind and lay you out on the counter then devour your pussy like it’s my last damn meal. ”
She gasps and leans against the counter for balance. Sucking in a shaky breath, she says, “Maybe my fine ass and mouth have different plans later tonight. Besides, you’re not the only man in New Orleans. Maybe I was talking about a different first date I plan to have later with someone else.”
I grab her hand, the one holding the spoon, and pull her quickly towards me. Her eyes fill with fire as she tries to fight against my grip.
Here we go again, just like fucking clockwork. Hot and cold. Our damn routine.
“I’m the only man here that knows just how your fine ass and mouth like it, Gwen. Don’t tell me you don’t remember? Holding out on me won’t make me go any easier on you once I claim you again, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Rex,” she says, fluttering her eyes. “There is so much more involved in pleasing a woman than a little girl from the past. I doubt you have the skills or stamina to keep up with me anymore.”
Releasing her arm, I smile and she quickly returns to her cooking. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’ve got all the time in the world and nowhere else to be. Besides, no man ever said he didn’t enjoy learning how to please his woman. I’m down to keep trying as long as your body can keep taking.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not your woman, Rex.”
“We’ll see about that, Gwen,” I smirk as we start stirring the dish together. “There are still a few more hours left in this day. I might prove you wrong before the night is over. And I know how much you enjoy being proved wrong.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I laugh.
“Hey, a bet is a bet, sweetheart,” I tease.
Her cheeks flush, and hell if it doesn’t make me think of ways I intend to make them do so again before this day is up.
She has no idea how much fun it is going to be watching her lose a bet she’s intent on winning.
In the past, I may have always let her think she was the winner, but damn it if I didn’t always lose in the most delicious ways.