Page 51 of In Good Company

Cal insisted we sit here instead of at the kitchen table. He said he wanted to be closer to me so he could have a front-row seat to me trying the meal he mostly prepared by himself, with my guidance.

I didn’t think much of his request, but now I’m wondering if I should’ve insisted on sitting at the table.

At least then, there’d be a barrier between us. His knee wouldn’t keep bumping against mine. I wouldn’t feel the press of his thigh against mine as he widens his stance in his chair.

I stare at my plate, more food left on it than I thought there’d be. It’s not like I’m not hungry or the food isn’t good. Cal’s meal is very impressive.

I’m just too caught up in being so close to him to be able to stomach anything.

As if he can read my mind, Cal’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Is my cooking really that bad?”

I’m nervous to look at him. My body is buzzing with electricity, and I already know meeting his deep blue gaze will further light my body on fire.

I shake my head, staring down at my plate like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “The food’s amazing, Cal.”

He lets out a deep, throaty laugh. I remember when I felt the exhale of his laughter against my lips. I want to feel it again.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he responds. “You’ve barely touched what I made.”

I can’t fight the pull to look at him any longer. My eyes meet his, and just like I expected, a bolt of desire runs through me.

“I promise what you made is perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” His eyes slip to my lips. He doesn’t hide the fact he’s staring at them. In fact, he keeps his gaze pinned on my lips for far too long.

My heart pounds at his words—or maybe it’s the way he stares at my mouth like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

“Cal,” I get out, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.

“Don’t,” he rasps, his eyes meeting mine.

“Don’t what?” My skin prickles with need. I want to feel more than the press of his thigh against mine, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

“Don’t say my name like that.” Apparently, he can’t fight the sizzling tension between us either. He turns in his chair so that he’s facing me directly. Our knees bump against each other with the new position, his legs suddenly encroaching on my personal space.

I don’t fight it. I don’t move. I can’t. Not with the way he looks at me. All protests of why it’s a bad idea to give in to my attraction to this man leave my mind the moment our eyes meet.

“How did I say your name?” I whisper, unable to make my voice any louder than that. My cheeks feel hot, and desire courses through my veins at the proximity of our bodies.

He tortures me by not answering my question. Or maybe the torture is the way he adjusts his body. He places his legs on either side of mine, caging me in completely. Now, his inner thighs press against my outer thighs.

“Like you’re hungry for something that isn’t this meal.”

My eyes widen, and my cheeks flush. I know I’m toeing a very dangerous line right now. I’m the one who didn’t want to talk about the kiss with him and pretend like it never happened. I’m the one who ran out in the first place. He hasn’t hidden the fact that he wants to kiss me again. The problem is, I can’t pretend anymore. Right now, all the reasons I felt we couldn’t kiss again feel insignificant.

I straighten my back as my need for him takes over. For right now, I don’t need to think rationally. I just need him.

“What am I hungry for, then?” I dare to ask, my entire body tight as I wait for him to answer.

He smiles, and I swear that cocky grin is like a caress against my skin. Heat runs from my head to my feet, making my toes curl inside my shoes. I wait with bated breath for him to speak, needing to know what his answer will be.

Instead of answering, he grabs onto the seat of my barstool and pulls me closer to him. The legs make a loud scratching sound against the hardwood.

At this point, I swear he’s got to be able to hear the sound of my racing heart. It beats so loudly that there’s a whooshing sound filling my ears.

“I still need to figure out what exactly you’re hungry for.”

His fingertips dance along my knee as he traces circles on my skin. “Is it my touch?” he asks, his voice deep and hoarse. My entire body shivers underneath his touch. I didn’t knowjust the simple connection of skin somewhere so innocent could make heat pool low in my abdomen.

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