Page 7 of Sawyer
You cook. You eat. You die.
The death thought had her straightening. God, Sawyer must be rubbing off on her because she was getting philosophical as well as emotional.
“Hey!”
She jumped in place, banging her elbow against the wall, as the very man who occupied her thoughts approached her.God, he was the last person she needed to catch her in this moment—except it was like he had some Spidey sense about her. “Kyle! How did you know I was here?”
“Ah…” He tucked his hands in his navy slacks, lifting a muscular shoulder.
God, she wished he wouldn’t do shit like that. He was already too sexy to be legal. She was in danger of being arrested for her multiple infractions of noticing. But who could blame her? He had a rock-hard body that made women weep. His ash brown hair was so thick that she wanted to run her hands through it. Then there was his broad chest, enhanced by the white dress shirt he wore with a few buttons casually open to show off his golden skin. His sleeves were rolled up in work mode, revealing his muscular forearms. Forget about his belly-tightening, blue-eyed gaze or the strong, handsome planes of his chiseled face.
Her attraction to him was like an oil fire in the kitchen—flame hot and hard as hell to put out.
In moments like this, she had to reach deep to remind herself of all the reasons they couldn’t possibly work long-term. The sum total of their differences would take them down from its sheer weight.
Kyle had been the prom king.
She’d been the rebel.
He went to country clubs.
She cooked for those people.
Even though they were best friends—totally againstallodds—and they had the hots for each other, they could not risk messing up their friendship.
Or their business relationship.
Or their found family.
They couldn’t risk giving in to this insane lust. They’d both agreed on that, but there was no denying the longing was getting worse. It made her wonder if a good romp between the sheets would clear the air between them.
She could feel the air vibrate as they looked at each other. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
She wanted to shove him in the shoulder so he’d snap out of this…whateverthiswas that was causing his blue eyes to burn with heat.
Sleeping with him would be stupid. But as he continued to look at her like that, she could practically feel his mouth on hers, the urgent press of his hands pulling her against his whipcord body. If he took a step toward her, she wasn’t sure she could ignore the urge to grip his shirt and yank him to her, feasting on his mouth like he was her own private new menu.
She glared at him, willing him to break the silence. His jaw locked as he continued to stare at her. His throat moved as he swallowed.
Oh God! Was he thinking about them hooking up too? Only it wouldn’t be just a hookup with him, and that freaked her out.
He was Kyle! Shetrustedhim. She’d never been with a man she trusted. Wouldn’t that make things better?
Yes!some part of her yelled.
But what if it doesn’t?another hollered back.
Worse, what if she wanted more? Even worse, what if she didn’t want more, but he did?
Sex changed everything.
In her experience, unless it was devoid of emotion, sex opened you up to hurt. Made you question yourself. Made you weak. Made you needy. Made you cry.
Yeah, the thought of crying woke her up from her fugue, just like burning her hand on a frying pan would.
“Earth to Kyle.” She flapped the newspaper in front of his gorgeous face. “Has Golden Boy gone mute? Have all the hair spray fumes from your old girlfriends finally done their damage? Do I need to call someone?”
Still nothing but that intense gaze. God, he was killing herhere.
