“I am?”
“Yes.”
“I’m only opening a bag of peppers.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Still fucking hot.”
“How the hell is that hot?”
“Just is, baby.”
I shake my head, but decide that there’s no point in arguing with him. If Caleb Morgan, the sexiest guy alive, thinks I’m hot opening a bag of bell peppers, then I’m not going to try to convince him otherwise. I’ll just take it.
Chapter Fourteen
Caleb
Kayden whips up a five-star meal in no time, still looking sexy as fuck while doing so. His slender fingers work with practiced skill, and I wonder what else they can do. I’ve had a hard-on since our kiss, and as we carry our plates to the living room, I try to walk without giving away how fucking horny I am. I know he’s worried about intimacy, and I get that, but all I see when I look at Kayden, when I kiss him and touch him, is this beautiful guy I just want to devour. I’m in awe of how he opened up to me about his fears and concerns. It takes a lot of courage to bare yourself like that, and it only makes me want him even more. It makes me want to reassure him and make him feel safe with me.
“Wow,” Kayden blurts as we enter the living room. “I didnotexpect this.”
“What?” I chuckle, looking around.
“That your place would be this… I don’t know,homey.”
“Homey? Really? Not a cliché bachelor pad?”
“No, not at all. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is so cozy and… old-school in a way. Not slick and smooth like you,” he teases.
“I’m not slick and smooth,” I protest.
“Really?”
“Nope, not at all. I’m cozy and old-school.”
He nods solemnly, his face serious, until it cracks wide open in a stunning smile and he laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m digging it, though.”
“Digging it?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what you old-timers say?”
“Fuck you!” I laugh, my chest squeezing at how much I adore playful Kayden. “I’m notthatold.” I know I’m eighteen years older than Kayden, but when we’re together like this, it doesn’t feel that way. It’s just easy, and we just seem to be on the same wavelength, erasing any kind of difference in age between us.
He sobers. “No, you’re not.” Then his eyes get caught on something behind me, and a tender smile plays along his lips. “Oh, I remember this.”
I turn around, following his gaze to the display of small figurines on the mantle above the fireplace. He places his plate on the coffee table, then walks to the fireplace and studies a small white and gold figurine.
“Can I?” he asks softly, and I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“Sure.” As usual, emotion takes over when I’m reminded of my parents. I don’t often revisit the past because it’s too painful and I just miss them too much, but in a way, it feels okay with Kayden here since he knew them too.
Kayden picks up the tiny ice-skating princess and studies it intently. Then he turns, facing me, his eyes wet and wistful. “I remember how much your mother loved figure skating.”
I nod because I don’t have any words. I love how he remembers something like that because, yes, my mother loved figure skating. It was the only kind of sport she really cared about. Especially the Olympics. My dad and I used to laugh about it because God help the poor sucker who’d dare talk to her while she was watching the Olympic finals.
He smiles in understanding, like he knows what’s going through my mind right now. His fingers trail along the ice princess’ white-and-gold dress.
“Katarina Witt, right?” He murmurs, his eyes shimmering with tears.