Page 38 of Burn For Me

Smoke

The trip had been good, and I was always happy to head home. Only, this time there was another reason. I couldn’t wait to see Whiskey again, and she would be in my house cooking me dinner.

Personally, I thought that sharing homemade food with someone meant something. Generally, when I dated, I didn’t cook for them until I knew I was interested in getting to know someone better.

Feeding someone something you had purposely made with your two hands was more than a whipped-up dish you paid for. I wondered if Lilly ever considered such a thing. Perhaps cooking was no big deal, but to me, it was huge.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her hello. I knew that was not what she wanted, so I left as quickly as I did. While I was showering, I kept thinking about how I should have just done it.

She might have shoved me away, but she might not have. By the time I returned, I knew I would not be able to deny the urge, and I was thrilled to see the same thought in her eyes as she looked at me.

I pulled her to me and hungrily ravished her mouth. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tightly as the kiss deepened. Fuck the delicious dinner that she had prepared. I wanted to devour her.

A few moments after the kiss started, I slowed it down and leaned back, staring into her beautiful eyes. “Now, that was a nice hello.”

She blushed and averted her eyes, but I cupped her cheek. “Don’t deny how you feel, Whiskey.”

“This isn’t right, Zack.”

“Yes, it is. It’s perfect. We both feel the same thing here.”

“But we shouldn’t be acting on it.”

“Why? Are you not getting divorced?”

She frowned. “Of course I am.”

“Then you are single, and I am single. Why not?”

She sighed and stepped back. “Because I told you that I work for you.”

“You work for Lydia.”

She gave me a stern look. “It’s one and the same in my eyes.”

“I disagree.”

She went back to putting food on the plates. “Then we will agree to disagree.”

I sighed. “Fine. For now, we will.” I didn’t want to ruin the evening, and my stomach growled.

“I set the table outside. I hope that’s alright.”

I glanced over my shoulder to look out the window. I hadn’t eaten out there in the year I had lived here. The weather was perfect, and having her here with me was even better. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

She handed me a plate. “There is wine chilling in the fridge. Can you grab it and pour us a glass while I finish here?”

“On it,” I told her, and collected the bottle and opener on the way out the door. I smiled as I looked over the table. She had found placemats and napkins and put a small fresh flower arrangement on the table.

I set my plate down and opened the wine. I was pouring our glasses as she joined me. “Thank you,” she said as she took a seat.

“No, thank you. It’s nice to have a homemade meal after eating out for days. It gets old.”

“Does it?” She asked.

“It does. All those heavy, salty foods. Eating something different is nice, but I am partial to homemade foods.”

“I see that you are quite the cook. I ate a couple of your frozen meals. They were delicious.”

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