Page 38 of Things We Burn

My fridge was now bursting with all sorts of fruits, vegetables, cold-pressed juices. Apparently, Kane was a juice guy. But also more champagne, beer, copious amounts of candy bars because clearly, he liked cold-pressed juices and sugar. A man of extremes.

The dinner he’d made was baked salmon and salad.

It was delicious.

Then he took me to bed.

And I’d woken up with him.

“You gonna overthink this?” he brushed hair from my face.

“Overthink what?” I blinked up at him, my voice lazy and satisfied and unfamiliar.

Relaxed.

That was the word.

I’d never sounded or felt so relaxed in my life.

Prior to this, to us, I woke up grinding my teeth, not giving myself a second to lay, to scroll or doze or do whatever it was people did in the mornings. I was up, mind calculating the things I had to do, the places I had to go and the amount of time I had to do those things depending on the menu for the evening.

I didn’t have days off.

Not even today. Theoretically, I should’ve been up thirteen minutes ago. I should’ve been getting my coffee from the cart on the end of my block then heading to the docks to see what was freshest. Then it was to the meatpacking district for the New Zealand lamb I’d been waiting on from a supplier no one else knew about.

Then it was straight to the restaurant for prep.

I didn’t have a free minute, let alone thirteen of them. Especially since I had taken the morning off yesterday to grocery shop.

Yet I didn’t get up. I wasn’t entirely sure I could get up, and not just because of my boneless limbs. Because Kane’sarms were around me. Tight, vicelike. It should’ve made me feel caged, claustrophobic, panicked. It had with every other man who’d tried to hold me in any type of way.

Not with Kane.

“Overthinkthis.” Kane’s fingertip brushed what I knew was the crease between my eyebrows as I contemplated my relaxed state. “I already see you doin’ it.”

I chewed on my lip. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Although I was overthinking, it was a lot less than I normally did.

“I’m not gonna play games.” He cradled my cheek. “Have in the past, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been an asshole, selfish, letting myself get caught up in bullshit.” He spoke plainly without adornment. “I was not a gentleman, and I don’t intend to be with you.” His other hand cupped me between my legs, and I let out a sharp breath of pleasure.

He grinned wickedly.

“Not in the bedroom … or wherever I feel like fuckin’ you.” He swiped his tongue along his teeth. “But the second I saw you, I knew that there was no way I was playing any type of game, wasting any time to make you mine. Initially, though… Gonna be honest, Chef. I wanted to fuck you, and I didn’t think too far ahead of that. But it didn’t take long to understand that I didn’t just want to fuck you. Wanted to make you mine. And I saw it in your eyes too. Whatever the fuck it is between us is intense as fuck. Doesn’t make much sense. It’s out of both of our control. And you’re about control, Chef. Saw it when I walked into that kitchen, making me hard as a rock. I like seeing you in control, showing your power. But neither of us have power over this, and I’m expecting at some point that’s gonna freak you out. Make you want to run.”

His hand flexed at my hip as if he were expecting me to run right there and then.

“Not gonna let you do that, Chef,” he added quietly. “Unless it’s what you truly want in here.” He tapped my chest. “Not here.” He tapped my temple. “I’ll let you fight it only so I can fight back with you. But I won’t let you leave out of fear. Sayin’ that plainly because I’m not doing bullshit with you. So you wanna run, or you want to sink into this?” His finger slipped into me.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head. But he didn’t move his finger, didn’t give me friction for release.

No, he just left it there inside of me, waiting.

He let all of those words hang, let them settle, resting on my chest like a weight.

And I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Kane was right. A primal part of me wanted to fight against this. Wanted to run as far and as fast as I could. Because I knew that this was real, that this was something. We were something. Something that might burn fast and hot, might peter out and leave us both unscathed and satisfied. Or it could break me irreparably.

My body tensed at the mere thought of that. I had worked far too hard to craft a life for myself that was secure. I’d ensured that I could not be ruined, could not be hurt by anyone, especially a man.

Every relationship I’d had prior to this could only be loosely defined as a relationship. The stakes had been low. There were no feelings involved. No danger.

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