Unable to form a coherent answer that didn’t sound like a whimper of need, she nodded her head. Oh, yes, please.
With a slow, sinful smile that made her insides liquefy, his head slowly descended toward hers, and she closed her eyes, wanting to make sure she memorized everything about Levi and this magical, seductive kiss. His lips brushed across hers, so tempting and teasing, and there was nothing she could do to stop the soft sigh that escaped her.
Needing more, she gave in to the urge to slip her tongue out to touch his bottom lip. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, and what had started as slow and sweet suddenly turned hot and wild. With his big hands still framing her face, his mouth took control, opening wide as he slanted his lips firmly against hers while his tongue swept deep inside, making her moan with delight.
The incredibly erotic taste of him filled her senses, and his woodsy, masculine scent wrapped around her like an addictive drug she knew she’d never get enough of. So she took as much as she could now, letting him kiss her as hard and deep as he wanted, and quickly learned that he wasn’t a man who did anything halfway. The pleasure was indescribable. Beyond decadent and arousing. The intensity was off the charts, and the way he consumed her, the way he claimed her mouth as if he owned it, was nothing short of intoxicating.
She had no idea how much time passed before he finally ended the kiss, but she silently mourned the loss of his lips as they left hers. She opened her eyes, realizing that only two parts of his body had touched her the entire time. His mouth and his hands on her face, when she’d fully expected, and wanted, to feel his hard, muscled frame pinning her to the refrigerator. The fact that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation was testament to this man’s impressive restraint.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his expression as dazed as she felt.
She managed a small laugh. “Yeah, that was so worth waiting for.”
“You were worth waiting for.” He glided his thumbs along her cheeks, which felt warm and flushed from his kiss. “By the way, you look beautiful tonight.”
Sarah knew she wasn’t a classic beauty, but the sincere compliment, combined with the adoring look in his eyes, made her believe it. If only for tonight. “Thank you.”
“I have a bottle of wine in the refrigerator,” he said with a smile, and to her disappointment, he let her go. “Would you like a glass while I make dinner?”
Ahhh, wine. Another luxury that she wasn’t about to refuse. “That sounds great.”
She moved away so he could retrieve the Chardonnay from the refrigerator, and she admired his backside—mainly his tight ass as he bent low to retrieve the bottle from the bottom shelf—in his soft, worn jeans. “What’s on the menu?”
“Chicken carbonara,” he said as he brought down a regular glass from the cupboard before giving her a pointed look. “Do not tell me you’re one of those women who only eats salad.”
She laughed. “Oh, my God, no. I love pasta.”
“Good.” Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he poured Chardonnay halfway into the tall glass, then brought it to her. “Sorry I don’t have wine glasses.”
“This will work just fine.” She took a drink of the cool, crisp, delicious liquid, watching as he recorked the bottle and put it back into the cooler. “You’re not having any?”
He shook his head as he started retrieving various ingredients from the refrigerator to make dinner and set them near the stove. “No. I don’t drink.”
She didn’t want to get in his way while he prepped and cooked the food, so she leaned against the granite counter on the other side of the stove from where he was working. “Wine, or alcohol in general?” she asked curiously as he pulled pots and pans from a cupboard and set them on the glass top burners.
“Any alcohol.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact about it, but as he’d also refused a prescription for narcotics, she suspected there was a whole lot more he wasn’t revealing when it came to liquor and medications. “Is there a reason why not?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know more. “Do you not like the taste, or did you have a really bad hangover that made you swear off of it altogether?” she teased.
He stopped what he was doing for a moment to glance at her, and there was something painful in his eyes that told her this was an emotional issue for him. “I’ve never had alcohol,” he admitted, his tone deceptively even. “But I saw enough as a kid with both alcohol and drugs to know they’re not something I’d like or enjoy. I know they hinder a person’s ability to think straight or logically, or function normally, and that lack of control is totally not my thing.”
She couldn’t help but wonder what he’d seen as a child that made him take such extreme steps as a man. Not to mention, there was that subtle issue with control again. Not in an abusive or aggressive way, but he’d just made it clear that it was important to him to always exercise restraint emotionally, mentally, and physically.
Why—on a deeper level than his pat explanation—was the question, and she found that part of his personality extremely fascinating. “Is that the reason you wouldn’t take the prescription for the painkillers from the doctor?”
“Yes.”
He gave her nothing more, so she let the subject go. After all, she had secrets of her own. She drank her wine, a little more self-conscious drinking it now that he chose not to, and watched as he chopped up the pancetta, then sautéed it with garlic and olive oil before adding the chicken to the pan to sear. He had one of those quick-boil burners that had a large pot of water roiling in no time flat. In went the pasta, and while that cooked, he whisked together the ingredients for the cream sauce. He didn’t use a recipe, and she was definitely in awe of his chef skills.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked as he combined everything into one pan and stirred so the sauce coated all the spaghetti.
“Cooking channels and recipes on the Internet,” he said with a shrug. “When you grow up eating macaroni and cheese from a box and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then go on to eat tasteless MRE packs in the military, your adult palate craves food with more appetizing flavors.”
He’d just given her more bits and pieces of his past, and she stored the information away. “I’m so impressed.”
He grated a fresh block of parmesan cheese over the pasta dish, then took a fork and twirled the spaghetti and other creamy goodness around the tines. “Taste,” he said, and broug
ht it up to her mouth.