Sweet Little Lies (Angel Sands 3)

“How do you think I’ve survived all these years?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Man can’t live on takeout alone.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I guess sometimes I still think of you as a college student. But you’re not, are you?”

“Definitely not.” He twisted a forkful of tagliatelle with an expert touch, raising it to his mouth. “I like cooking. It’s restful. Things take as long as they take, and you can’t rush them. It’s very different to the rest of my life.”

The pasta was delicious. The noodles were perfectly cooked – al dente – and the cream sauce was smooth without being heavy. She closed her eyes as she tasted it – letting the hint of garlic and oregano linger for a moment before swallowing it down. “Remember the time you tried to cook the fish you caught?” she asked him.

He smiled, his eyes lighting at the memory. “As I remember you were impressed. You wanted to run away and live in the cave while I went out and hunted your dinner every day.”

“You forgot to gut the damn thing. It tasted rancid.” It was funny, though, remembering how she’d watched him make a fire on the beach, creating a makeshift rotisserie with some old driftwood and sticks. She’d been amazed right up until she put the first morsel into her mouth.

“Hopefully I’ve learned a lot since then.” He twirled his fork into the pasta again. Amazing how a simple act could send shivers down her spine. He was a magnet – she was drawn to everything he did.

“Well this definitely doesn’t taste like an nineteen-year-old boy cooked it.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s delicious.”

“The Fresh ‘n’ Easy’s finest.” He winked.

“You got this from the Fresh ‘n’ Easy?” She grimaced. The local supermarket wasn’t known for the quality of its produce. “Wow.”

“I got the ingredients from there. It was either that or drive out of town, and I had a dozen meetings today.” He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait until midnight to eat.

“No, I wouldn’t have wanted that.” She met his gaze again, laying her silverware on the now-empty plate. “Thank you, that really was lovely. I can’t remember the last time somebody cooked for me.” That was, if you didn’t count the formal dinners she had to turn up to at her parents’ house. But she so rarely actually ate that food – her mom had always told her not to. Better to skip the

eating and entertain, dear.

“It seems like you’ve missed out on a lot of things. I guess you had to grow up fast.”

“I don’t mind. I like cooking, as long as I have the time.” She swallowed her last mouthful of wine. Her glass was barely empty before he was filling it up again. “Next time I’ll cook for you.”

“Next time?” A smile played at his lips.

“What, is this a one time thing?” She didn’t need to hear his answer. She knew it already, the same way he knew hers.

“That depends on you.”

She looked at him, her eyelashes sweeping down and obscuring him for a moment. “It does?”

“Yeah. I told you, I’m not going to push you. Not for anything. Whatever happens tonight is on your terms.”

“What if I want you to push me?” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “What if I want you to take the lead? To show me what your terms look like?”

He was close, yet too far away. The table between them felt like a barrier, and she wanted it gone. He must have wanted the same thing, because the next moment he was up and closing the distance, offering his hand to her. She slid her palm inside his, letting him pull her up to standing. His touch was enough to set her on fire – her skin fizzed with anticipation. He pulled her close, his finger tipping her chin up until her eyes locked with his. They were dark, narrowed, taking her in.

“I’ll take the lead if you want me to.” His voice was thick. “But if you want me to slow down, or stop, or…”

She put her finger on his lips, feeling the softness of his skin there. Such a contrast to his face, where his beard was already pushing through. “Hush. I don’t want you to stop, and I won’t want you to slow down. I only want you.”

* * *

Her words were like paraffin poured over an already-burning fire. They set his body alight. How long had he thought about this moment? About having this woman offer herself up to him, the same way she’d laid herself bare a decade ago? For so long she’d been a memory – a thought in the breeze he’d successfully ignored. But now she was here, in his home, and it felt as though every dream he’d ever had was coming to life.

“You’ve got me.” He brushed his lips across her temple. Her skin was warm and soft. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and inviting, and the innocence he saw sent a shot of pleasure down to his groin. He’d been hard since they’d started eating – it was impossible not to be when she kept sliding the pasta into her mouth, her lips parting the same way they parted whenever he kissed her. Even with the table between them he could feel the heat of her, see the need in her. To know he was the guy she wanted to sate that need made him feel ten feet tall.

He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her lips. Her throat undulated as she swallowed at his closeness. With his hand still beneath her chin, he angled her face, the tip of her nose sliding along his until they fit right together. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly open. She was waiting for him. And though they’d kissed before, this felt different. He could taste the anticipation wafting from her.

Because this wasn’t only a kiss, it was a beginning. The appetizer for what he had planned. As his lips hovered above hers, he could feel her arching her body into him, all softness and curves and warm flesh. The kind of body a man could lose himself in, again and again. The kind he’d never get enough of no matter how hard he tried.

He ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her gasp as she opened up to him. He kissed her, his mouth demanding, his hands sliding down her back to press them closer together. He was hard against her belly – pulsing at her closeness. She lifted her hands, threading them in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she tried to get them closer still.