I mull the question over. I’m not exactly hungry, but I wouldn’t say I’m full either. Though I don’t want to take more than I need, and I’ve definitely had that. “No, I’m okay.”
The microwave beeps and Sebastian pulls his dinner out. Whatever meal he has smells just as good as the others.
Where did he get it all from?
My stomach chooses that moment to let out a sound, and my head snaps up as embarrassment flows through me. Sebastian looks up from opening the cutlery drawer, and I can feel my face heating.
Grabbing a fork, he starts heading out of the kitchen. Except instead of leaving, he changes directions and stops at the end of the island bench facing me.
“Would you like to try?” he asks, tilting his bowl towards me.
He must take my silence as ‘yes’ because he walks around my side of the island until he’s nearly behind me. The stool spins with me as I twist to keep him in my line of sight, only stopping when my back is to the bench.
A gasp escapes me as Sebastian steps forward, taking advantage of the slight gap between my legs. Using his body, he pushes them further apart until he’s right in front of me.
I swallow hard.
He stabs his fork into the bowl he’s holding between us and twirls the long pasta around it. I can’t help but focus on his exposed forearms—the veins running along his skin and the subtle shifts they make with his movements.
Lifting the fork towards me, he raises a brow, and somehow, I know he’s not asking me to take it from him.
Slowly, I open my mouth.
Sebastian makes a sound of approval and brings the forkful to my lips. Heat blooms on my cheeks as I take the bite, looking up at him through my lashes.
Flavour bursts on my tongue as creamy sauce fills my mouth, and with hints of parmesan and garlic, I get the full impact of the alfredo flavours. Though, no matter how good the food is or how succulent the piece of chicken, I can’t concentrate on anything other than the man in front of me.
Leaning forward, Sebastian places the bowl on the bench behind me. Except instead of pulling back, he plants his hands on the bench on either side of me, effectively caging me in.
If I thought my stomach was fluttering before, but it’s nothing compared to the kaleidoscope of butterflies invading me now.
As I finish my mouthful, Sebastian grasps my chin with one of his hands.
Oh God, is he going to?
As much as I should be honouring my plan and keeping distance between us, I know if he tried to kiss me right now, I wouldn’t stop him. My heart races as my thoughts clash, but instead of planting his lips on mine, he moves his thumb to the corner of my mouth and drags it across. When he pulls it off, it comes away with some creamy sauce.
I’d be disappointed that he doesn’t want to kiss me again if the heated look he gives me wasn’t so distracting. Channelling boldness I wasn’t aware existed inside me, my tongue darts out to lick the sauce off his thumb before he can pull it away.
What are you doing?
This is definitely not the plan.
Sebastian’s eyes darken at the move, and his other hand clasps my waist as my tongue swirls around his thumb, pulling a groan from his lips.
My burst of courage lasts all of five seconds, and I pull back, startled by my actions.
“Did you like it?” heasks, his voice raspy, while his hand squeezes my waist while his thumb traces a path back and forth over my ribs.
“Yes,” I whisper, the courage well and truly gone.
He leans in so that his lips are only a hair’s breadth from mine. “Good,” he says before stepping back—his hand reluctantly leaving my side.
The space between my legs immediately feels empty, so I squeeze them together, except it does nothing to relieve the throbbing coming from my core.
Does he know the effect he has on me? Sebastian takes another step back, then another, and another—his retreat agonisingly slow.
Eventually, he’s out of my line of sight, and when he rounds the island, he opens the refrigerator. But I don’t make any move to turn around—instead, I sag against the back of the stool.
There’s some rustling, and a drawer opens and closes before his heavy steps leave the kitchen without even bothering to heat anything up.
I don’t spin around until he’s gone, and when I do, the first thing I see is the bowl of chicken alfredo he left behind for me on the bench, and my heart warms.