Page 34 of Mine To Take

I get out of bed and notice my clothes draped neatly over a chair. Smiling in appreciation, I dress, then go to find Tristan. He’s in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. Standing at the doorway, I watch him move from sink to cooker and back with the precision of a pro chef.

“Didn’t know you could cook.”

He turns around at the sound of my voice, his face lighting up in a smile that makes my insides flip, especially when I remember just what his lips can do to me.

What his lips just did to me.

“Me neither.” He’s still smiling. “Turns out, there was pasta and olive oil in the pantry, fresh tomatoes in the fridge, and no limit on pasta recipes on the internet.”

“I’m impressed…and it smells good.”

“Wait till you taste it.” His face is earnest. “You may be disappointed.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I laugh. “I’m starving.”

“You are?”

“For food,” I clarify, almost blushing at his suggestive smile. “In case you’re getting other ideas.”

“I am getting other ideas.” He’s laughing as he comes to place a kiss on my nose. “I’m always getting other ideas.”

“It’s great,” I tell Tristan later, twirling more pasta around my fork.

“The chef appreciates your compliments,” he says, giving me an elaborate bow.

“Seriously,” I continue. “Maybe you can consider a career as a chef if you don’t find another job as soon as you get back.”

Tristan’s hand stills on his fork and he gives me a weird look.

“It’s a joke,” I laugh nervously. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He gives me a quick smile and continues eating.

It’s an awkward moment in an otherwise lovely evening. After we eat, Tristan drives me back to my place. There, I linger in the car, holding his hand, hesitant to say goodnight.

“I had a great time.” The words are too bland to describe what just happened between us, but I feel as though words might not be enough to describe just how perfect it was to be with him.

Tristan is smiling at me, his eyes teasing. “What part did you like the most?”

I stick out my tongue. “You’re not very humble, are you?”

“You mean it wasn’t the food?” His eyebrows go up in fake surprise.

“It was,” I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “The best pasta I ever tasted.”

He laughs softly, and I want to burrow into his arms, stay there, and cover myself with the warm sound of his laughter.

“So, tomorrow?” He sounds hopeful.

How is it possible he still doesn’t know that if he so much as crooks his finger, I’ll come running? “Why don’t you call me?” I suggest.

He leans toward me and, lifting my face with his forefinger, touches a gentle kiss to my lips. “A Domani,amore mio,” he whispers softly. “Dream of me.”

He waits till I come out on the balcony before driving away. I’m thinking about him as I prepare for bed and go to sleep, so of course my dreams are peppered with images of him and memories of pleasure.

And in the background, the constant reminder.Don’t get too attached, Cora. He’ll be gone soon.

CHAPTER15

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