His navy blue gaze passed over my face. I could so easily turn the tide of this encounter. Rub my palm over that bulge in his sweats. Let my lips explore his. Feel his heated breaths against my skin.
“I don’t need that,” I whispered.
The corner of Harlan’s lips curled up, but instead of being annoyed, heat bloomed from my chest.
“What do you need, Em?” His eyes were locked on my lips. Was he offering me sex, or kisses, or attention as payback for what I did for him?
Was it pathetic if I did want all those things?
Was it worse if I wanted them from him?
My stomach swooped when he used a single finger to brush my hair behind my ear. His fingertip traced all along the shell of it, and it made my chin lift that much more, my chest thrusting toward him, my head tilting back. Harlan’s thumb pressed just below my bottom lip. What was I supposed to do with my hands? Was this really happening? It wasn’t so different from that dream I had, but if I put my hands on him right now, the line would officially be crossed.
My horniness couldn’t win out over my son’s college tuition.
And anyway, there was no way he actually wanted those things with me. He was just doing it because he could atone for his sins or whatever.
Which . . . I wouldn’t. Because I couldn’t.
“We should get cooking,” I croaked on a dry throat.
He nodded with a wry smile and tapped the tip of my nose. “Okay, Chef.”
FOURTEEN
HARLAN
MARCH
I could do this.I could look Chef in the face.
Chef had caught me in something of a compromising position, or rather, she caught my dick in one.
Before she came over, I was setting up the kitchen for my lesson and debating whether I was actually mean to her or if it was all just good-natured teasing. All our little fights raced through my mind. How stubborn she was. How her cheeks would flush when I got under her skin. How she also had this soft side that was unbelievably confusing.
The next thing I knew, I was hard. And it wouldn’t fucking go away. I knew I didn’t have long before she showed up, and I have a decent amount of windows open to the street. The most private spot I had on the first floor was the wall right when you entered my kitchen.
I really could have used some lube. Having as many piercings as I did down there, it was nice to have a smooth ride. I scanned over the ingredients I’d pulled out for my lesson and—nope, I actually was above buttering my cock. I did have limits.
I spit on my palm and got back to it. Only the images in my head weren’t memories of wild nights with an ex or random fantasies.
It was her.
What the fuck was that perfume Emma wore? Did she buy it at Brats’R’Us to torture me? Emma would resort to chemical warfare if she knew it would make me crazy. Her scent erupted into my face when she held onto my shoulders in the Amarillo parking lot—fuck, was I really beating it to memories of Amarillo Steakhouse? Which was worse: jacking off to thoughts of your coworker or jacking off to thoughts of a moderately-priced suburban chain steakhouse?
No matter. I’d learned a long time before to not judge whatever fantasies bubbled up. Brains are brains. Bodies are bodies. And Chef Emma was a certified hottie.
Add poet to my list of attributes. And right as I was preparing for release, the doorbell rang. I growled out a string of cusses. I felt like a perv finishing while she was outside my house. I shoved my dick back into my pants and tried to come up with something, anything, to make it not completely obvious what I’d been up to.
I failed. She saw it. I saw her see it.
But we had to get past this somehow. We had fourteen lessons to go. And we still had a whole lot of seeing each other at work.
What’s a boner between friends? We were two adults. We could handle this. For all she knew, I was watching porn and lost track of time.
Scratch that. I’m not sure that makes it better.
So when I got into work before our Sunday afternoon game against Colorado, I looked all around the dining room but only found Miguel at the cooking station. I was pretty sure Emma’dbeen avoiding me, and it really wasn’t my intention to creep her out. I needed to make amends.