Chapter Sixteen
“I MAY HAVE GOTTEN a little bit carried away here,” Hunter cautioned as he surveyed the kitchen.
Emma bit her lip in a vain attempt to keep from smiling. Because, yeah. A little bit carried away was a massive, massive understatement.
First, he’d prepared a fabulous set of steaks that had her questioning whether he’d ever needed cooking lessons in the first place.
He’d sworn they were one of about three things he knew how to make, but he’d seared them with panache and served them next to a spinach salad like an absolute professional.
He’d even paired them with a red wine that he’d had recommended to him by his bartender friend.
As they’d eaten, they’d talked about their days, and compared movies and TV shows and books they were enjoying; their tastes didn’t overlap very much, but they found plenty of common ground.
Then, after dinner had been cleared away, he’d revealed what else he’d been up to.
Namely, almost buying out the entire co-op grocery store.
“I just wanted us to have options,” he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You know. For dessert.”
When he’d started pulling things out of his fridge and cupboard, she’d almost laughed.
In addition to the pre-made phyllo pastry cups Chef had recommended, Hunter had picked up every possible variation on the ideas the man had suggested for alternate fillings.
Fresh berries, cans of pie filling, chocolate mousse mix, cream cheese, fudge sauce, whipped cream—the works.
She smiled, both overwhelmed and touched. “Well, I daresay you succeeded.”
“We don’t have to make it all. I know it’s too much.” He moved as if to put some of the things back, but she wasn’t having that.
Impulsively, she reached forward and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. She tugged him down until she could place a firm kiss on his mouth, and a little thrill went through her. Because that was something she was allowed to do now. Just reach out and… kiss him.
She pulled away with one last press of her lips to his. “It’s sweet.” She cracked a smile as she smoothed her hands down his chest. “Literally.”
“But not too sweet?” he asked.
And how dare this man be so openly perfect and thoughtful? It stabbed at something tender inside her, and she had to look away.
“You know.” The tiniest hint of bitterness threatened to gather in the back of her throat. “I don’t think my ex-fiancé ever realized I didn’t like super sweet things.”
That was kind of pathetic to admit, but Hunter was being so kind that she didn’t know how not to compare the two of them.
“Really? You guys were together for years, right?”
“Seven.”
He shook his head in wonder. “What a douche.”
And she couldn’t help it. She cracked up laughing, a tear springing to her eye.
“Sorry,” Hunter backtracked. “I shouldn’t insult—”
“No, no, it’s fine.” She squeezed his hand right back, while with the other, she swabbed at her eye. “He kind of was a douche.”
“But you must have cared about him.”
“I did.” A part of her probably still did, even now. “But I’m far enough away from it all to recognize his flaws.” She glanced up at Hunter. “And to appreciate when someone is nicer to me than maybe I’m used to.”
He scoffed. “You deserve a partner who’s always nice to you.”
Her heart did a weird little dance inside her chest as she gazed up at him. He really believed that, didn’t he?
She didn’t know what she deserved. But there was definitely a part of her that wanted that to be true.
She swallowed past the sudden surge of emotion thickening her throat. Sweeping her hand toward the overflowing counter, she said, “So. Where should we start?”
In the end, they started with the phyllo cups.
Hunter arranged them on a baking sheet and slid them into the oven to do their thing.
In the meantime, Emma inspected their options more closely, trying to come up with a game plan.
Fortunately, Hunter had not only been generous but also smart.
None of the things he’d picked up required extensive preparation.
While the pastry baked, they set to work, mixing up the packet of mousse and preparing a simple, no-bake cheesecake filling based on the recipe printed on the cream cheese box.
While she started slicing up fruit, Hunter opened a couple of cans of pie filling, even though that was obviously too much.
She hadn’t felt this spoiled in ages—or maybe ever, for that matter.
Her heart fluttered, and she dropped her gaze to the cutting board in front of her, where she’d been dicing up a pile of strawberries.
They made a good team, moving around each other like they’d been doing this forever, even though it was all still so thrillingly new.
But even though they’d been sharing the space seamlessly, they were working in close quarters. They kept brushing hands, their sides grazing. More than once, he’d touched her waist as he moved past her, and the tight coil of desire building within her had nearly burst.
Hunter didn’t seem unaffected by their proximity, either. Every time their gazes met, his seemed to smolder with anticipation and wanting. But neither of them was jumping the gun. Whatever was happening between them? It wasn’t simple lust. It was serious. It was real.
He knew it. She knew it. And if he wasn’t running away from it anymore?
Well, she was choosing to be unafraid, too.
“Emma? Emma—” His big hand settled on hers, his deep voice repeating her name as if it weren’t the first time he’d tried to get her attention, and oh hell. She’d really gotten lost in her thoughts there, huh?
“Yeah?”
He smiled softly, his hand falling away from hers but leaving prickles of electricity in its wake. “I think those are probably chopped enough.”
She looked back down at her cutting board to find her pile of strawberries all but minced. “Oops, sorry. Got distracted.”
Their gazes met yet again, even more heat slinging its way back and forth between them.
“It’s fine.” The timbre of his voice was rough and gravelly, and it did nothing to keep her focus on their baking. “But maybe we should…”
She followed his gaze to the pastry shells, which he’d taken out a few minutes earlier, and which were probably cooled enough. She let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Definitely.”
She grabbed the cheesecake filling because it was closest, while he snagged the bowl of instant mousse.
Neither of them had been confident enough to try to figure out how to use a pastry bag, so instead they just made do with spooning the toppings in.
It wasn’t terribly artful, but that didn’t matter when Emma popped a cream cheese, strawberry, and fudge sauce mini phyllo tart into her mouth.
“Oh, damn,” she murmured, covering her face with her hand so as not to chew with her mouth open as she made a noise that was borderline sexual.
There was nothing borderline about the answering look that Hunter shot her way. “Good?”
“Delicious. Here.” She finished drizzling fudge sauce on another shell filled with the same combination and nudged it in his direction.
He picked it up and took an approving bite. “That’s great. But.” He’d assembled his own creation with dark chocolate mousse, raspberries, and whipped cream. “Try this.”
Rather than pushing the treat in her direction, he picked one up and held it out.
Her lungs contracted. He was presenting it to her as if he expected her to eat it right out of his hand.
The full-body flush that possessed her made it difficult to think, but that was for the best. The last thing she wanted to do right now was overthink any of this.
Pushing down any self-consciousness, she leaned in.
As she bit into the bittersweet, creamy filling, the succulent fruit, and the crisp pastry, the flavors burst over her tongue. Her lips brushed his fingertips, and his eyes darkened. Fires bloomed inside his gaze.
She pulled back, never breaking eye contact. “Incredible.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. A new huskiness colored his tone, and his throat bobbed. He pressed the remainder of the pastry cup into his own mouth before licking his thumb. She had to grip the counter to keep her knees from turning to water at the sight.
And they should keep going. They had all of this stuff half made, but the electric pulse in the air was a buzzing static in her skin. She was starving, but not for dessert.
His gaze drifted to her mouth. “You’ve got a little—”
“Oh.” She started to flick a fingertip across her bottom lip, but he was there before she could.
Slowly, he swiped his thumb just beneath her mouth, and that was it. She was going up in flames.
She reached out and grasped his wrist. Their gazes met as she pulled his hand to her lips. Heart pounding, she sucked the tiny smear of chocolate from his skin.
His nostrils flared, those deep, hazel eyes of his going molten.
They both broke at once.
She threw himself into his arms at the same time he hauled her up and in.
Their mouths collided, warm and wet and desperate.
Hooking her hands behind his neck, she climbed his big body.
He grasped her by her hips and lifted her as if she were weightless.
She landed on the countertop, her legs falling open, and he slotted himself between them as if he belonged there.
And maybe he did. She wrapped her thighs around him with a groan, and oh. The huge bulge of his erection pressed against her center, setting off fireworks inside her. Dizzy with desire, she skated her palms up and down his spine, drinking in the breadth and heat of him.
After all the times they’d edged toward the brink, only to step back before they could teeter over, she half expected him to pull away.
But if anything, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips, pressing forward.
He tasted like chocolate and sex, and she scraped her teeth along his lip.
Moaning, he cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth.