Changing Roles

“Hey, Beaker.”

She looked up, the most beautiful smile in the world lighting her face, and I had to return it in full. She was bloody amazing. And she looked good in my, our, kitchen.

“There you are. I was surprised when I came home to see your car gone.” She snickered. “I’m rather shocked you’re even awake. Where were you?”

“Errands.”

“On a Sunday?”

I bit back a grin as I held up a small bag. “Yeah.”

“What’s that?”

I pulled out the item and held it up for her. She chuckled, her eyes lighting up with mirth. “We have lots of pickles, Liam. You looked right past them.”

“I looked in every cupboard.”

“You’re not in England, Britboy. I keep them in the refrigerator. The jar was right beside your sandwiches.”

Bugger. Never thought to look there.

She shook her head. “Sometimes you miss what is right in front of you. It’s scary.”

She had no idea how right she was with that statement.

“Well, you can add this to the pantry, then.”

She nodded, her hands still busy. “Will do.”

I edged forward, wanting to be closer to her. “What are you doing?” I asked, looking at all the things she had in front of her.

“I took a class this morning. I learned to make sushi. I’m making you some now. I got all the ingredients for your favorites.”

God. I loved sushi.

I loved this woman.

I watched her begin to assemble another roll and inspect it. “I haven’t got the technique quite right yet. But I’m getting better.”

I stood behind her, watching. It looked fine to me. Without thinking, I settled my hands on her hips and my chin on her shoulder as I observed her. I felt a shiver flow down her spine as I bent closer, and I smiled. She liked me close. “It looks good. Really good.”

“You can find out in a few minutes.”

Her voice sounded husky. It made me want to run my lips over the exposed skin of her neck. Maybe after lunch, she’d let me. I frowned and pressed closer. “Shelby, you don’t like sushi. You hate it, in fact.”

“I’m making it for you.”

I shut my eyes as I rested my forehead against the back of her head. Her soft hair tickled my nose. “You went to learn how to do this for me? Even though you hate the stuff?”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, and her skin grew warm with her blush. “You were surrounded last time you tried to go for lunch at that sushi bar you like, and you haven’t had it since then. I know how much you like sushi, and I thought maybe you missed eating it. So, yeah. I learned for you.”

A rush of tenderness filled me.

Always for me. Something I didn’t even realize I wanted or needed, she did, and quietly took care of it.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t consider my actions.

I spun her around, and covered her lips with mine.

Pressing, hard, needy.

Oh God—finally.

Shelby.For one brief, fabulous moment, I had Shelby in my arms and her mouth underneath mine. Warm, yielding, and bloody perfect.

Then she shoved me away, her eyes wide with confusion. “What are you doing?”

I stepped back, tugging on my hair. “Kissing you.”

She grimaced and moved forward, sniffing me warily. “Are you drunk again?”

“No!”

I put my hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I love you, Shelby. I’m in love with you.”

“Because I’m making you sushi?”

“No! Because–because I am!”

She shook off my hold. “No, you’re not, Liam.”

“I’m not?”

“No.” She smiled sadly at me. “You’re just reacting to my going out on a date last night. It’s like separation anxiety for a child.”

Separation…what? A child?

What the hell was she on about?

She should be kissing me back, not talking. And dammit, I didn’t want her to look so sad.

“No,” I stated with firm conviction. “Pretty bloody sure I’m in love with you.”

“Well, let me know when you’re totally bloody sure, and we’ll talk again.” She turned around, starting to make more sushi.

I gaped at her.

Let her know? I was going to let her know, all right. I was going to shag her until she was bloody dead certain.

I grabbed her and spun her back around to face me. I pressed her tightly against my chest and crashed my lips to hers again.

Damn, she was soft. Warm. Sweet. So bloody sweet.

And pushing me away again. Dammit.

She glared at me then shoved past me to the sink, tossing her glasses onto the counter. I smirked, knowing I had probably smudged the lenses when I was pressed against her. She pumped several shots of soap into her hands before scrubbing at them vigorously.

Right. No doubt she wanted to wash the raw fish off her hands before we got too carried away. Since I did want those little hands all over me, it would be best if they were clean and not smelling of seafood. Maybe I should have waited until she was finished making lunch.