“Well, I have a couple of steaks defrosting in the fridge that I could grill up, or I have some linguini and shrimp. I could make an alfredo.”
“I’m sorry,” she began with her hand in the air as if she were going to stop traffic. “You can cook. Like actual meals? Not reheating something in the microwave.”
Beau shrugged his shoulders. He knew a male cooking was an anomaly for some people, but he enjoyed making something from scratch and knowing that he created the explosive flavors as they hit his tongue.
“Growing up, I had to eat somehow after my dad died. Mom was usually off on a date. When we lived in Arizona, one of my neighbors in the apartment complex saw me at the grocery store buying a frozen dinner. I was only ten at the time. She took me back to her place and said I could eat dinner with her and her husband if I helped her in the kitchen. Mrs. Hunt was her name.
“We only lived there for about four months, but I learned how to boil pasta and perfectly sauté vegetables and sear a steak.”
“That sounds amazing. I’m a terrible cook. My parents always had dinner brought into our condo. The only time I ever had anything homemade was when I visited Carson. My grandmother was the best cook. I can still taste her spaghetti sauce when I think hard enough. She’d let me help, but I never really caught on. It’s been frozen meals for me since I was in college.”
“Well, you have your pick tonight. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you help,” Beau said as he steered the truck into a parking spot in front of the apartment complex.
“Is there a dessert afterward?” she asked and Beau swore there was an actual twinkle in her eye as she rested her arm on the center console looking at him.
“I’m pretty sure I could wrangle something up.” Beau wondered if she could hear the huskiness of his voice and the way the octave dropped as he said the innuendo. He really wanted her as dessert, but he didn’t want to push her with everything going on. It had been pure agony to keep his distance the last week. He wasn’t sure his cock could take it any longer.
“Well, then, I think the alfredo sounds great. I’m kind of excited to see you work in the kitchen.”
They exited the vehicle, Savannah keeping a tight grip on Belle’s leash while Beau shouldered her overnight bag. She followed him up the open stairwell and to the third floor, where he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter. Belle tugged on the leash when Savannah hesitated, laughter spilling from her lips at the dog's antics. Belle seemed to want to show Savannah around their home as she circled wildly between the woman’s legs.
Beau apologized and grabbed Belle’s lead, unhooking it from her collar and commanding her to calm down, which she surprisingly obeyed. He took the time to show Savannah around as she had done for him at her place. Soon they were standing quietly in the builder-grade kitchen as Beau filled up a large pot of water for the pasta.
He could feel her eyes on him like the way he could always tell when his sixth-grade teacher was staring him down for flirting with the girl seated at the desk beside him. Somehow he always knew.
“You know,” Savannah spoke up as he moved the pot from the sink to the stove. “As an adult, there is nothing that says we can’t have dessert before dinner.”
Beau froze in place. His feet felt like they’d been cemented to the wood floors. He took a deep breath before looking over his shoulder at where Savannah rested her hip against the kitchen peninsula, a determined look in her eyes.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked? There was no chance he wanted to screw up whatever agreement they had; if she wanted to take things further, Beau wanted her to be certain about it. But it definitely turned him on to hear her telling him what she wanted.
“If I’m saying that I want us naked so that I can get a first-hand feel of what your hands, mouth, and cock, can do, then yes, yes I am.”
“Jesus Christ, that was fucking hot,” he growled as he pulled his feet free and stalked toward her. She had no hope of resisting his desire. Her simple statement now released everything he had held back in the last week. She wanted to fuck him and she wanted it now. There was no way he wouldn’t comply.
Savannah tried to take a step back as he moved until she found herself trapped against the back of his couch. Bending at the waist, he shoved his shoulder into her stomach and lifted her into the air as he stood up.
“Oh my gosh,” she yipped as her head flipped over his body, coming to rest just above his ass.
“I always did like my dessert first,” Beau told her as he carried her down the hall toward his bedroom. Her body bounced on the clean gray sheets as he released her body from his hold.
In the three weeks since he’d known her, Beau had imagined Savannah in his space, but the seductive vixen gazing up at him from his bed was not what he had envisioned. But, damn, if he didn’t love this new side of her.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked her. Despite this new saucy attitude, he was one hundred percent loving, she was vulnerable, and Beau didn’t want her to think that he was taking advantage of her risky state.
Savannah’s small hands reached around his neck as he leaned over her on the bed, one foot resting on the floor while the other leg bent and rested on the bed, holding his weight, which caused her body to dip toward his.
“I’ve been sure about it since last Friday when you stayed over the first time. I may have imagined that towel falling from around your waist one too many times to count.”
Standing up, Beau began to tug at the material of his shirt behind his neck, bunching it in his hands. Savannah looked disappointed, but he was about to make her dream a fantasy. He quickly gathered the shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aimlessly across the room. He toed off his shoes, then with a quick work of his hands, he unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall to the floor.
He may have felt a sense of enjoyment as he watched her eyes widen as he disrobed, and as he stood in only a pair of blue boxer briefs, he’d never been more proud of the desire pooling in her eyes. Beau was certain that Savannah’s gaze alone could have sparked the flimsy igniter if a match had been in the room.
There was a jingling sound off in the distance and Beau immediately moved to close the bedroom door, recognizing it as Belle’s prance to find a comfortable stop in her bed.
“We probably don’t want any visitors,” he explained as he bent over to remove his socks.
“No. We don’t want that,” Savannah said in agreement as she pushed up on the bed, resting on her elbows bent beneath her body, watching him as he slowly walked toward the bed.
She was entirely clothed, but Beau swore he had gained x-ray vision and could see beneath every ounce of material to witness the flawless skin hidden away.
Beau came to a stop just a foot away from the bed and reached down toward her ankles until he brushed the cuff of her pants. He tugged at the material until she got the hint and unbuttoned the pants.
“Your turn,” he growled as he yanked at the fabric ends until they found their way into a heap on the floor.
Savannah placed her feet on the bed as she scooted back, her body lying flat against the soft blankets on his bed. She was a vision with her pale skin and black lace panties barely covering the juncture between her legs.
“Did you wear those for me?” he asked, unable to pull his eyes away from the dark material.
“Maybe. It’s a matching set.”
A growl built at the back of Beau’s throat until he could barely manage to say, “Show me.”