Chase
So, what I quickly realize is that I can’t bake for shit.
Jeremiah, on the other hand, slipped right into baking mode, mixing dry ingredients like this is his secret night job.
“You’re really good at this, huh?” I huff out a laugh, hovering over his shoulder.
“It’s easy. Look.” He reaches for my hand, gently pulling me closer. Pressing the heel of my hand into the soft dough, guiding me through the motion. “There, you go. Perfect…look at you.”
Holy shit.
The praise hits me right below the belt. And the fact that I’m pressed up against him? Yeah, not ideal. I quickly step back, slipping my hand free.
“Sorry, I–”
He shoots me a curious look, then chuckles and goes back to kneading. “No worries. We can’t all be Mirko D'agata.”
“Yeah…” I blink. “Wait, who?”
“Forget it.” He smirks. “Once I’m done working this, you’re going to spread it for me, okay?”
I drag a hand down my face. Oh my GOD. He must be doing this on purpose.
“What!?” He laughs, transferring the dough to a baking sheet.
“Just…you spread it, okay?” I trail off, biting back what I really want to say.
I can’t exactly tell him the way he’s talking is reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid. I can’t tell him the way his veiny forearm as he kneads is making me question everything I’ve ever known about my sexuality.
“I’ll be over here,” I mutter, rounding the corner and pretending Honey is the only thing I care about right now instead of the beautiful off-limits human standing on the other side.
“When did you even find time to learn how to cook?” I scoop her up, snuggling into her fur. She lets me, which is nice. She’s so calm here.
“Used to bake and cook with my mom. It was sort of our thing,” Jeremiah says nonchalantly. I nod slowly. This is the first time he’s talked about his family life. I don’t want to press him but I’d also really like to know more.
“You two close?” I ask.
Jeremiah starts up on kneading a second dough. I guess we’re eating two pizzas tonight. “Yeah,” he says softly, “We kind of were.” His hands hit the dough harder this time.
I nod and gently place Honey back to her seat. “How is she?”
He pauses. “A question we’re both wondering, I guess.” He sighs, moving his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “We don’t really talk anymore.”
My heart sinks. I get it. I want to say. But, I don’t.
“Okay,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Get over here. It’s your turn.”
I walk back over to him and zone in on evenly spreading the sauce and toppings all over the pizza dough. Honestly, it’s pretty cool that we’re making this from scratch. I’ve never done something like this before. I’m more of a takeout type of guy.
“There you go. Good.” His voice feels like a warm hug, as he stands behind me, watching me closely.
Once I’m finished, he takes the baking sheet and pops it in the preheated oven.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” he says, setting the timer on his phone.
When he turns towards me, I nearly burst out laughing.
He’s got flour streaked across his cheeks and forehead.
“What?” he grins, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand again, which now I can see is the culprit.
I chuckle, stepping closer. “You’re a mess.”
Without thinking, I cup the back of his neck to hold him still and wipe the flour from his face. To my surprise, he stands still, letting me do it.
The closeness sparks something inside me, and I can’t bring myself to let go. His eyes flicker between mine and my lips, and I can’t help but graze his jaw back and forth with my thumb. And the fact that he’s letting me…it’s doing all sorts of things to my body.
My thumb brushes across his bottom lip a little too long—honestly, I don’t even know if there’s flour there. All I know is his lip feels really really good.
I’ve wanted to feel this lip for… God—feels like forever.
“You always get this dirty when you bake?” I murmur quietly.
“This is a first,” he whispers with a slight smile. There’s a beat. Then another. His eyes flick between mine and my mouth, and I feel my hand tighten around the nape of his neck.
“Mine too.” I feel my pulse jump as I swallow.
Wait, are we still talking about pizza?
He licks his bottom lip, and I zero in. It’s amazing seeing him this close up. His skin looks soft and smooth like butter, and his lips…wow. I’ve never really been a lips guy. More of an ass guy. Boobs are always cool. But holy hell. Something about his mouth is driving me crazy.
Maybe I’m just…a Jeremiah guy.
I realize I’m leaning in, barely breathing. Our chests are almost touching. We’re so close I can feel his warmth on mine. My fingers have a mind of their own as they curl into the hair at the back of his neck, tugging him closer.
“Chase…” Jeremiah mutters quietly, his strong hands gripping my waist. I see his brows furrow, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” I say quietly, squeezing my eyes shut. I know this is embarrassing. I’ve never begged someone before. But here I am.
Please, please, please.
“I’m not crazy, right?” I open my eyes to judge the reaction on his face.
He hesitates—eyes scanning me. He may be stopping himself from accepting this, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I’ve never wanted something—someone—so badly. I need this. I need him.
“Tell me you want this,” I say softly.
His lips part. Nothing comes out.
My heart drops when he doesn’t answer.
“Fuck. Okay, yeah. I’m sorry—” I breathe, stepping away—
His firm hands grasp around the back of my neck, pulling me in.
Fuck, yes.
In an instant, his lips meet mine. It’s urgent and messy, and as needy as I feel. I’ve never kissed a man before, but at this moment, I couldn't care less.
Everything’s better than I imagined it to be.
The way his lips feel. His scent. His taste.
Jeremiah Blackwood has his mouth on mine and it’s incredible.
I grab ahold of his face in my palms as I push him back, needing more.
But, he’s just as dominant as I am as he pushes me until my back hits the kitchen counter, not breaking the kiss for even a second. The impact knocks the air out of me, but he doesn’t slow down.
Neither do I.
And then—his tongue.
He parts my lips with a kind of confident hunger that I’ve been dying for. He moans angrily into my mouth, and the sound shoots straight through me and pulses to my dick.
His hands roam from my jaw, down my throat, across my chest like he’s dying to feel every inch of me. I’ve been dying for it too.
“Chase, fuck—wait—” he says, breathlessly against my lips. Making no attempt to move away, he pushes his thigh between my legs, grazing against my hard dick.
Yes. More. I need more.
I slide my hands beneath his shirt, fingers searching for the heat of his skin. His body tenses, but quickly relaxes into my touch as I explore the soft ridges of his stomach.
He’s hard and soft in all the right places. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s unbelievably thrilling.
I kiss him harder, deeper, chasing every swirl of his tongue like I’m starving for him—because I am.
My hands dip down until they’re on his ass. I can’t help myself. I squeeze a handful, pulling him into me. A sharp grunt exhales out of him and he presses his dick through the thin fabric of his joggers against mine.
Holy shit.
Just the thought of seeing—feeling— his dick excites me more than I ever thought possible.
All of a sudden, the buzzing ring of his phone alarm cuts through the tension like a slap of cold water.
Jeremiah pulls back, our lips unlocking. I lean in again, hungry to chase that feeling. I don’t care about the damn pizza. We can starve.
“Chase—”
“Forget the pizza,” I breathe, clawing at his arms, pulling him back in. Our mouths collide again, desperate, reckless.
But after a few seconds, he breaks away again, slipping out of my grasp. “I have to take it out. Give me a second.”
He moves fast, marching to the oven and yanking it open. A cloud of thick white steam bursts out around him.
“Shit. I left it in too long,” he mutters, grabbing the tray with an oven mitt.
We have another pizza prepped, so I’m not worried.
I’m only worried about how he’s feeling.
Can we get back to the kissing now?
But from here, I can feel the energy shift. His movements are sharper. He’s avoiding eye contact, prying the burnt crust off the tray with too much force.
A wave of uncertainty slams into me.
Did I push too far? It was the ass grab, wasn’t it? Dammit.
“Jer—”
He stops and rubs his bottom lip with his fingers, staring off into space like he’s not even in the room anymore.
“We shouldn’t have done that. I’m your boss,” he says finally.
My heart drops…
“I know…” My voice is small. “But… I mean, we can be careful. I won’t tell anyone—”
“It’s not just that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair until it’s messier than I’ve ever seen it. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that kiss—it’s not right. You’re…you. And this—” he waves a hand between us, “It doesn’t make sense.”
The words aren’t meant to hurt, but they do.
I nod, eyes dropping to my hands. “Got it.”
“No. That’s not what I meant,” he says quickly, leaning back against the island like he’s bracing himself. “It’s just—this is supposed to be my chance to make a name for myself. A real one. And you—”
“Woah, hey—” I step in and gently turn his face toward mine. I press my forehead against his. “It was just a kiss,” I whisper. But it wasn’t. Not for me. Not even close.
“Just a kiss,” he echoes, his breath warm against my lips. We’re still too close. And yet, not close enough.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I say, even though I feel every cell in my body disagreeing. My thumbs gently stroke the nape of his neck.
He tilts forward just enough for his lips to graze mine. Barely.
I don’t want that to be the last time. Not when I’ve finally tasted something I’ve been chasing for what feels like years.
“Let’s just…pretend it didn’t happen,” I murmur. “If that’s what you want.”
I hold my breath.
After a beat, Jeremiah nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I swallow deeply, giving him my best attempt at a smile.
“Friends?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. At least give me that much.
“Friends,” he agrees, just as softly.
And then—he kisses me.
It’s slow and gentle and feels like a secret.
He gives my waist a firm squeeze before guiding me gently away, creating just enough distance to make me ache.
“So…are you still hungry?” Jeremiah asks softly, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb.
I nod. “Starved.”
Even though pizza is the last thing I’m starving for.