Page 7 of Allured
Standing right in front of him, I bring the fork between our faces, a scooped hand underneath the tip of the utensil in case there’s any fallout.
There’s an idea flowing in my brain, part one of my seduction of securing his number. Oh, Clark Kent has no idea what he’s in for. I’m sure my grin looks feral to him at this point.
“Let me blow on it for you,” I whisper. My lips part and we’re so close that I’m feeling more heat coming from him than from the pastry. A gentle puff of air leaves my lips and I see the steam of the food travel toward his gaping mouth. His lightly stubbled jaw trembles only inches from my fingers.
Screw it, here goes part two of my seduction.
“Taste it for me.”
He makes a soft, involuntary sound as his lips wrap around the fork. Never once does he take his eyes off of me as he chews and fuck, do I find that eye contact hot.
CHAPTER SIX
EZEKIEL
Starvation or salvation?
At the moment I can’t remember if spontaneous human combustion has been disproven or not. What I am sure of is that after hearing that sentence leave this man’s mouth, I might become one of the recently recorded cases of the phenomenon.
My eyes dart from the flaky, delicious—smelling pastry to his amber eyes. I don’t know whether he’s joking or not but I can’t detect any malice from him. There’s nothing but anticipation as his own eyes lock on my face. We’re so close there’s not even a forearm’s breadth between our chests.
I’m hungry. I’m confused. I’m enthralled.
And I can’t resist. I don’t know what I’m feeling, and I don’t think that I want to reflect on the perplexity. For once in my life, I’m listening to my body and not my mind.
Without another word, I inch my face forward and wrap my lips around the morsel; attempting, but failing to look anywhere but in his eyes as I retreat from the fork. His expression isdownright lustful, eyelids hooded and looking at me through his long, curled lashes.
I’m lost in the moment. A satisfied moan ripples through the air and it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from me.
Eyes widening, I step back and make the mistake of trying to breathe in while my mouth is still full of the appetizer. I’m mortified when I begin to gag. If I don’t die from choking, I’m sure the embarrassment I am feeling will finish the job. I ask myself, was that bite worth my potential death by trachea obstruction?
Backing away even further, I cough and bring my fingers to my lips, my other hand resting on the counter to catch myself. I can breathe. I’ve escaped death and only wounded my pride by a small amount.
“S’ry just a little hot,” I mumble after swallowing the rest of the bite. Not an outright lie. The food wasn’t extremely hot, but I felt like I was burning from being in his proximity.
“You alright?” The look of concern from him matches the softness in his voice as he sets the fork down on the counter and rests a hand on my forearm. Heat sears me from his touch. Were those thread—bare oven mitts so far gone that they burnt his hand and he’s now branding me in return?
That’s the only reasonable explanation for the feverishness that is radiating from our connected flesh. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why I’m feeling so flustered.
Ilieto myself.
“I— I’m okay.” I nod. Humiliation settles within me as I move my arm away from his touch. I rub small circles around my chest and it feels like my hand is a physical barrier preventing the outpouring of emotions simmering beneath my fingertips.
He was only checking to make sure I wasn’t choking anymore, his touch was nothing else. I’m sure the chef of thismeal wouldn’t want an attendee eating his food to choke on it. That must be why he had been so worried and kind.
Oh, hell.I need to let him know I was choking by accident. It had nothing to do with the quality of food. The food itself is divine and I wouldn’t want him thinking anything less.
“That was delectable, thank you.” The compliment leaves my lips once I’ve finally gathered my composure and I muster the courage to look up at him.
The smile that blooms on his face from my praise is one that I will never forget. What’s it mean when the little sign of pleasure from him, a pleasure that I caused, makes it feel like there’s a knot in the middle of my stomach?
“Thanks, man. I actually gotta get to finishing up the rest of these before they get appetizers out in twenty minutes.” The man points behind him and throws a little nod toward the counter where his food rests.
“Oh yes, of course. I didn’t mean to be a distraction.” Embarrassment sweeps me once again.What am I doing?Knight sent me in here to check on one simple thing and I haven’t even accomplished the menial task.
“Is the dietary checklist in order?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.” The man mocks a salute my way. He’s chuckling as he takes a list from his Hello Kitty apron and produces a marker from behind his ear to check off some items.
