Page 65 of His Temptation
“I’m ashamed to admit I don’t quite know your food preferences yet.”
He hands me a plate to fill up myself, completely unaware of my reaction to his admission. There’s one word in there that is making my blood pressure spike—yet. Does that mean he is planning on learning about my food preferences? It’s bizarre to witness this powerful man serving me and telling me he’s going to learn the little nuanced details that makeme, me.
We both fill up our plates, and then he pours us some sparkling water.
“This is really sweet. Thank you for doing it. The food looks amazing. Where is it from?”
“It’s Olio E Più,” he says as he spins his pasta around his fork.
“Hmm,” I say as I mirror his movements, scooping up my own bite. “I’ve never heard of it.”
He looks up at me, slightly stunned. “Seriously? You’ve never had this before?”
“I think you often forget about the fact that I was making eighteen dollars an hour before I worked for you.”
The pasta is incredible. I instantly get lost in the amazing tastes of the food. Lincoln studies me as I moan over my food—from the pasta to the chicken on my plate. I would be self-conscious if I cared enough to let anything distract me from the flavors in my mouth.
“I don’t even understand how it’s possible to survive living in the city with that little amount of money,” he says as he continues to analyze me with his eyes.
“We were barely surviving. No medical insurance. Clothes that were worn down and bought secondhand. Ramen noodles for dinner to make it to my next paycheck.”
He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his water. “I’m going to discuss a potential program with Scarlett.”
“What kind of program?”
“Something that will give people with their GED a chance to get their foot in the door. You are better than any assistant I’ve ever had. Not only did you not flirt mercilessly with me, but you catch on quick and work hard.”
“You don’t think I ever intended on this happening between us, do you?” I ask, suddenly mortified that he might think that low of me.
He chuckles. “Of course not. You don’t get to the top like me unless you have an excellent read on someone’s character. I can tell I pissed you off first before I ever turned you on. Though don’t think I don’t find the irony in me sleeping with the first assistant who didn’t want me that way.”
I drop my fork and let my head fall into my hands. “This looks so awful. If Scarlett ever found out—oh my gosh, I would look so bad.”
“No worse than me, doing the stereotypical thing and sleeping with my much younger assistant.”
“Huh. I guess I never really thought about our age difference. It never felt like such a big gap to me. I guess it is twelve years.”
“Yeah, it must be because you’re so mature for your age.”
I smile at him. “And you’re so immature for your age. That basically makes it feel like there’s no age gap at all.”
We both laugh in unison, though there’s this awkward awareness in the air. How did we let it get this far without considering our differences? He is much older than me. How would it look for him to be dating his much younger assistant? No better than it looks for me to be dating my much older billionaire boss.
His arm reaches across the table, and he places his hand down on top of mine. The warmth of it gives me instant comfort with the added spark that ignites in my body the moment our skin touches.
“Don’t overthink it. We don’t even know what this is. We’re just getting to know each other right now,” he says.
I nod my head, trying to act as certain as he is. “Okay. Just getting to know each other.”
We spend the rest of the lunch talking about lighter subjects. I find out he likes to play basketball, is a huge sports fan, and absolutely despises asparagus. I tell him that I like to watch football but am not much of a basketball or baseball fan, that I’m obsessed with board games, and that I happen to like asparagus. We agreed to disagree on the last one.
After we’re done, we head back into the building. When we get to the elevator, he hits the button, then turns toward me and takes me by surprise by pulling me in for a kiss. Not just any kiss. A kiss that steals my breath and makes my body want to slump into a puddle. His lips are hard and searching, and his strong hands are on my cheeks, cupping my jaw.
He pulls away and kisses my nose gently. “I haven’t been able to get last night out of my head.” He breathes heavily against my mouth.
“Me too,” I say on a shaky breath.
“I don’t understand what you’re doing to me, Kylie. Just know that I’ve never done this before with anyone. I don’t date.”
