Chapter 25
W e’d eaten the entire pot of soup, the whole loaf of bread I’d made, nibbles of various food left over from dinner service earlier, and a butterscotch pudding so perfect I licked the bowl and demanded another helping.
The kitchen was dim and sparkling clean now.
We were sitting on stools and only a few inches apart.
I had my leg between his legs, my foot resting on the bar of his stool.
“Food is so good,” I declared, lifting my fork to make the point. “I had forgotten how good food was.”
“That’s a weird thing to say, Quinn,” he said, laughing. His knee brushed mine, causing a zing to electrify its way through my body. “Don’t you eat every day? Or are you one of those people who can subsist off air alone?”
“I’m ashamed to admit this to an actual chef, but I’ve been eating practically the same thing every single day for like seven years.”
“Why?” he demanded, lifting his hands up to the sky. “Why would you do that to yourself, Quinn?” His eyebrow cocked. When his hands came back down, one of them landed on my thigh and I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d move it higher.
“I’m realizing I haven’t enjoyed my life in a long time,” I told him.
“I really tuned out. Lived the same day over and over, maybe because it was just safer that way.” For some reason, I felt like I could spill my secrets to Alex, say the things I couldn’t yet admit to Benny or my mom.
In a month, Alex and I would be on separate sides of the country.
I wouldn’t need to live with the things I revealed to him.
“Survival mode,” Alex said. “I know it well. I sometimes still have my moments. When my restaurant fell through, I completely disassociated from life. I even wanted the owners of Wavy to extend me a month so I wouldn’t have to be without a job before I start in Chicago.
” He pointed to his temple. “My mind is not always a good place for me to be.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair,” I said, and even though we were exchanging our pain, all I felt was relief.
Sometimes Benny’s relentless positivity grated on me.
The same way Mom’s used to as well. Like nothing ever gets to them.
Like I’m the weird one for being deeply affected by life and not able to maintain this steadfast belief that everything works out in the end.
“They told me to take a vacation,” he said. “I know I’m weird, but I hate having time off.”
I laughed.
“You’re not weird, at least that’s not weird to me. I hate time off, too. That’s what my boss said when I was laid off. Go travel. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy myself? No thanks.”
“It’s strange, though,” he said, leaning even closer. “I don’t hate the idea of taking time off and spending it with you. I don’t know why. It doesn’t make me panicked. I haven’t spent a month not working since I started culinary school.”
“I haven’t taken even a weekend off since I graduated college.”
“You must love your work.”
I laughed sharply. “No,” I said. “I could not have cared less about the actual work I did. It was a job. It paid very well. It kept my mind busy. I definitely didn’t love it the way you seem to love cooking.”
“What do you love, then?” he asked, low, gaze caught on mine while his thumb brushed across my thigh.
I swallowed hard. He leaned in closer, his eyes intent on mine.
“I don’t know,” I started, words rough.
His gaze dipped down to my lips. “Not falling for you is going to take all my willpower.” He whispered it, like maybe he was uncertain about whether he should say it. When he looked back up at me, his face was too open, too vulnerable.
“I don’t do that anymore,” I said back forcefully.
“Do what?”
“Fall in love.”
“How do you stop yourself?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. My heart was racing.
“I don’t get involved,” I said. “You don’t want anything more than that from me. Trust me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not capable of it.”
“Of love?”
“Of the kind of love you deserve, Alex.”
I wrenched my eyes from his and removed my leg from between him, scooted back the stool so quickly the screeching sound echoed in the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I need to know,” I said urgently. “I need to know that this ends in a month. I don’t want to talk about love or anything beyond that. Or this has to stop now. I’ll leave and we can go on with our lives.”
“What happened, Charlie?” he asked. He stood up, closed the gap between us that I’d created. He brushed a lock of hair from my face and put it so gently behind my ear I almost whimpered. “Who hurt you?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Nobody. If you can’t handle this rule, I get it.
” I stood up to leave. I didn’t want to, but I had to.
There was no way I could have my heart on the line.
Especially not after I promised myself I would never lose control again.
“You don’t have to go along with this. I know it’s ridiculous.
” I began to walk away, but he followed, grabbed me tenderly by the wrist, pulled me in so we were facing each other.
“A month,” he said resolutely. “Okay.”
“Alex,” I whispered. “Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to force you into anything. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You think I can let you leave now?” He shook his head like I was a riddle he couldn’t solve. “I don’t totally understand this rule, but I respect it.”
“Thank you.”
My eyes landed on his lips. He was so close to me. I could see each individual bristle of hair on his beard, smell that peppery scent of his, feel heat emanating from him, hear his labored breathing.
“Are you going to kiss me now, Perry?” I asked boldly.
He stepped closer, swept his hand under my hair, and caressed the side of my neck. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes, Chef.”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, “I like you saying that a little too much.”
I couldn’t help giving him a daring, wicked look.
He brushed the hair off my neck, cupped his hands on my face, stroked his thumb across the plane of my cheek, and practically gazed through to my soul.
“Give me a second,” he said roughly. “I’ve only been waiting a decade to do this properly.”
“Hope you haven’t built it up too much.”
“Not a chance.”
He swiveled me and backed me up against a wall that was a few feet away, his hands still seemingly everywhere at once. He placed a deliciously soft kiss at the space below my ear and dragged his lips down my neck.
“I dreamed about what you’d taste like,” he whispered.
I grabbed his beard and turned his face, kissed the same space he’d kissed on my neck, and licked so, so softly. His sharp intake of breath emboldened me. “I did, too,” I whispered back, breathing into his ear and pulling his body so close to mine there wasn’t any space between us.
His hands found their way under my sweatshirt, so his fingertips were trailing across the skin at the low of my back.
It was so featherlight and sensitive that I arched and when he flattened me across the wall again, one of his hands was under the hair at my neck and the other was steadying on the bare skin of my hip.
“Come here,” he growled and pulled me by the wrist until I was sitting on top of the prep area, my legs wrapped around him as he stood between me.
He guided me toward his mouth and our lips met tenderly at first, like the beginning of an exploration.
It was warm velvet, and it felt like my whole body came alive at the contact.
I had spent so much time not being kissed like this that I found myself hungry for it, just like the taste of food had ignited the same insatiable nature within me.
Shifting my head, I slotted myself onto his mouth, captured his tongue against mine, and moaned.
My hold on Alex tightened and I heard him make a sound that could only be described as a cry.
His hands were all over my body, under my sweatshirt, finding purchase wherever they could, and when I finally got my hands under his shirt and felt across his stomach, then onto his chest, he let out a groan that made me feel powerful in a way I’d never felt before.
He stopped kissing me and tilted my head so he could take in my neck with his lips and I softly groaned.
My mind went entirely blank. I wanted him so badly there was no turning back.
Space and time no longer existed—it was only this moment, only Alex’s lips on my collarbone, only his hands curved around my breast.
I let my torso fall to the table, lifted my sweatshirt to reveal I wasn’t wearing a bra, and waited for him to touch me, entranced by the look on his face, wanting to never ever forget it, his eyes glassy, his arousal so readily apparent.
His hand palmed the middle space between my chest and roved down my stomach, his fingers dancing along the waistband of my sweats.
As I watched him, he was gorgeous and flushed, consumed with the task at hand, the task of touching me, kissing me, devouring me. A chef’s attention to detail, to savoring, to meticulously taking his time.
He tore his hands away from my body and let out a frustrated sound.
“I can’t do that here,” he said, pointing to the core of me. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we have to stop. I can’t be as methodical with you if you’re splayed out on a metal table. I need to take my time, explore every inch. What I’ve imagined doing to you cannot be rushed, Quinn.”
This man . My eyes rolled to the back of my head. My skin was buzzing, adrenaline coursing through me. I was spread open, ready for him, sweatshirt up to my neck, trying to form sentences.
“You look so fucking sexy right now,” he said, voice raspy. His hands grasped my thighs, thumbs in a precarious position for someone that couldn’t have sex with me right now.
I had gone so long not caring about sex that it was wild to me that I suddenly felt like if I didn’t have Alex soon, I was going to be in physical anguish.
The hunger was ravenous, watching him above me, feeling his strong hands on my thighs, wishing we were in some hotel room with nowhere to go for three days straight.
I decided to not keep the hotel idea to myself and said, “What about a hotel, three days, room service, and nowhere to go? Thoughts?” It was exactly the kind of thing I would never suggest. A Charlize move, for sure.
“Yes,” he replied quickly. “I know the chef over at this incredible hotel in Montecito that’s right on the beach. I bet I could get us a room. He owes me a favor.”
“I’ll pack very little,” I teased.
“I love this whole month-of-yes situation,” he said, smiling.
“Me, too,” I agreed.
Shooting my arms out, I grabbed his hands and he lifted me from the table so I could sit up.
He patted my hair down and kissed me on the cheek, then the lips, then drew me into a long hug that I didn’t want to end.
When he pulled away, he looked into my eyes, shook his head like he couldn’t resist, and captured my mouth on his again, his tongue softly grazing across mine, a kiss so intense I felt all the exquisite pressure building inside me, desperate for release.
My cheeks were flushed and my lips were swollen by the time we untangled again.
“Fuck,” Alex whispered into my ear, and I knew we were both experiencing the same kind of luscious torture. “I want to take you back to my place right this minute, Quinn, and kiss every single inch of your skin until you couldn’t take it any longer.”
My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I crumpled just the slightest bit.
His words were so heated I nearly lost myself to them—and I had a sudden thought that falling for Alex Perry would be way too easy, and I remembered what it had been like with Noah, how I was guarded one minute and the next I was desperate with need for him.
It was startling how quickly love could scale even the tallest walls.
Never could I allow myself to be so vulnerable and defenseless like that again. Never.
Still, part of me wanted to say yes, to let this heady moment continue for hours on end, but the smarter, more practical part of me disentangled us, knowing I needed to go home and cool down. If he took me back to his place right now, I may not ever leave. This was escalating at a frightening pace.
I could already feel walls I spent years constructing breaking down, bricks flying off without my consent. It was time to go back to Quinn Canyon and rebuild, make a fortress before I saw him again.
My hands involuntarily pushed on his chest to give me space.
“We have time,” I said to him, even though, really, we didn’t.
He still didn’t move, unfazed by my rejection, his fingers dancing along the back of my neck.
“By the way, it lived up,” I said. “Actually, it was better.”
“What was?”
“The kiss,” I told him. “I spent so much time imagining it, and I was worried it wouldn’t live up to my fantasies. But it did. You did. You do.”
He gave me a wide grin and said, “So far, you’re better than the fantasy.”
Then, he pulled me close to him, kissed me longer, harder, deeper than before, until I hardly knew where I was, until my head was swimming. It took every ounce of willpower available to me to walk away from him.
It was past four in the morning when I finally drove back to Quinn Canyon and tucked myself into bed, energy reverberating off my body, trying to fall asleep, but wound up and turned on so much that it took me another two hours until I could finally relax.
Even then, my dreams were vivid, explicit, wild.
Hunger, desire, pleasure were funny things—you could suppress them for only so long until they came back with a vengeance.