Page 104 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

Well, that and to rescue her from trying to slice up the capsicum.

One kiss, then another, it took serious effort for me to stop myself from getting lost in her lips, but I managed to move her to one side and then grab the knife.

“So what’re we making?” I looked at the ingredients on the bench. “Beef stir fry?”

“We’re supposed to be making you dinner for once,” Katie said, her hands going to her hips, and that was almost enough to distract me. I knew them now, their shape, the way her skin dimpled under my fingers as I gripped?—

“Told you not to bother.” Rhys grabbed Bronson’s lead from where it was hanging up, and the jingle of his collar had him barking. “Garrett’s got some kind of OCD about food prep.”

“I like to cook.” My stomach tensed as I felt a couple of hands slide around it, then I blinked as I felt Katie lean into me. “You’re good.” My hands covered hers. “There’s not much that will distract me, but you…” I picked her up and set her on the edge of the bench, staring at her smile. “Are more than enough.”

I wasn’t sure what I said exactly, but her smile faltered for a second and something else rose. Soft, vulnerable, open, I treasured every second of it, right up until Katie mastered herself and her grin widened.

“So the oyster sauce and cornflour slurry is a good idea, but we might add a bit of garlic and ginger…”

I had plans, many of them, but when Katie tilted my head her way, my voice trailed away. Never had I waited for someone else’s response to a meal before.

“Sounds amazing.” She reached out and touched my lips. “You’re amazing.”

“Ugh, two Tauruses in the kitchen.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “That’s my cue to GTFO, hey boy?” Bronson replied with a couple of sharp barks. “Alright, mate, let's go for a bit of a run and see if we can build up an appetite.” Katie leaned back over the counter and I managed not to swallow my tongue as her shirt stretched tightly over her breasts as she kissed Rhys goodbye. “Kisses for B Dog too.”

He had the dog up in his arms, something that alarmed Bronson at first, but then his tail was wagging furiously as he licked at her face.

“OK, have fun,” Katie told them. “Now.” She dropped off the counter. “How can I help?”

Just by existing, I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t.

“Grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour the two of us a drink,” I said and then started chopping.

Chapter52

Katie

If you’d told me a man could make cooking a sexual thing, I wouldn’t have believed you. Mandie and I saw the film,9 1/2 Weekswhen we were teenagers, finding an old DVD at the back of a friend’s mum’s wardrobe. Watching the fridge scene had us howling with laughter and feeling uncomfortable, because you didn’t need to lick honey from someone’s navel to be hot. You just needed to walk around the kitchen like a king in his castle, your thick forearm muscles flexing as you cut vegetables up with complete proficiency.

“OK, I get it.” I looked down at his neatly cut slices of capsicum vs mine. “If I could use a knife like that, I’d kick me out of the kitchen too.”

“Not kicking you out.” His arm wrapped around my waist and he slotted me into the space between him and the chopping board. The knife handle was slid between my fingers, but I couldn’t focus on that, not when he pressed his body into mine. My hips may or may not have popped backwards slightly to press back into him. His huff of breath tickled my ear as he covered my hand with his. “You’re not going anywhere, now…”

Our hands moved together in a slow rocking movement.

“If you don’t lift the knife totally off the board, the point acts like an anchor, helping you control the size and shape of the cuts you make. It’s easier to make them even and uniform.”

“And that’s important?”

I didn’t really care, but it gave me an excuse to look back at him over my shoulder. That meant I caught the way his pupils flared, a small smile forming.

“Not if you don’t want it to be.” His eyes dropped down to my mouth and stayed there. “I mean, it ensures that every mouthful has a consistent mix of the different vegetables, making the dish more homogenous.”

“And who wouldn’t want that?” I was trying to tease him, but that came out all breathy. “Nothing worse than a meal that’s heterogeneous.”

“Are you teasing me?” That damn dimple popped. “Is that even a word?”

“Look it up if you don’t believe me,” I said, turning back to the vegetables.

Following his advice, I stopped making such a dog’s breakfast of the chopping up. Garrett nodded with satisfaction, then turned to start pre-heating the wok.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm that was curiously deceptive. It was like I’d known him my whole life, not just weeks. We were like stars orbiting each other, moving around the kitchen, but never clashing.

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