alone.
She took a long, shuddering breath, letting the temptation take her under. “I’ll text her.”
“Good girl,” Van said, the words she’d normally find patronizing like a hot caress against her. “I’ll make sure it’s worth the trouble.”
After Tessa had sent the text and gotten one back from Sam, complete with about twelve exclamation points following her OMG, Van left for a few minutes to bring her keys down. And he must have brought them in person because Sam sent another text shortly afterward.
HOLY shit, girl. U’ve hit the hookup lottery. Enjoy the condoms!
Tessa was still laughing when Van came through the doorway. He smiled. “What’s so funny?”
“My friend approves of you.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “I’m charming that way.”
“And she thinks you’re hot,” she said matter-of-factly. “That goes a long way with Sam.”
He laughed, not bothering to deflect the assessment of his hotness, and crossed his arms. “And what do you think?”
She lifted her chin, jaunty. “I think I don’t like cocky guys.”
He stepped in front of her chair and braced his hands on the table behind her, caging her in. His expression held playful challenge when he leaned in her space. “Liar.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How would you know?”
“Because you didn’t wait a whole year only to waste a night with some guy who’s unsure of himself.” He put his lips next to her ear, his voice turning dark and ripe with promise. “I may be cocky, but I’m not going to fumble around. I’m not going to lie back and wait for you to take the lead. I’m going to feed you the best meal of your life. Bite by bite. Then I’m going to fuck you. And I promise, when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember the food.”
THREE
Sweet baby Jesus. Tessa had no idea what to say to Van’s illicit promise, so she didn’t even attempt to respond. But she could feel heat traveling through her like an electric current, turning on switches she didn’t even know existed. She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, but that only made it worse because she got a lungful of his spicy scent.
Van pushed off the table he’d braced his hands on and straightened. “Still want to have dinner with me?”
She lifted her gaze to him. He’d made his intentions clear, and he was giving her an out. This was her chance to go back to the safety of her apartment where there would be no handsome strangers making her feel vulnerable and off-balance, where there would be no risk of her embarrassing herself, and no dreaded walk of shame to face in the morning. But as she stared back at him, she knew she’d suffer one thing if she walked away now. Regret.
Because no man had ever caused such a visceral response in her or inspired such primal need. And she knew instinctively that he wasn’t writing checks he couldn’t sign. He was promising her the sex of her life, and she had no doubt he could provide it. And maybe it was base and wanton to simply want this man to take her over and use her for their mutual pleasure, but dammit, she couldn’t think of anything she needed more right now than to let go like that.
“I’m very hungry,” she said finally.
His eyes lit with satisfaction. “Well, far be it from me to deny you a meal.” He extended his hand. “Come on, I still owe you a little Cooking 101 lesson.”
She took his hand and let him lead her to the stove, feeling as if she’d crossed some portal she couldn’t walk back through, like if she turned around now, there’d only be mirrored glass to tap. They both knew what tonight was about now. No pretenses. But apparently, he was still going to hold to his promise of teaching her how to cook. He grabbed a bottle of olive oil and a bowl of what looked to be nuts and set them on the tiled counter. He picked up one of the nuts and lifted it to her lips. Dutifully, she opened her mouth and let him slide it in. He took his time pulling his fingers back, letting them casually brush her lips.
“These are blanched almonds,” he explained, his tone soft in the quiet night. “They won’t have much flavor yet since we haven’t toasted or salted them. But I want you to get an idea of what they taste like before. It’s an important step. Taste your ingredients and your cooking throughout the process so you can adjust seasonings as you go.”
She crunched the mostly tasteless almond and swallowed, trying to concentrate on the lesson and not the way his deep voice was seeping inside her and dialing up her internal thermostat. Focus. “Why are they blanched?”
“It provides a better surface for the seasonings and they look nicer in a bowl. We serve these on every table with the manchego.” He turned on the burner beneath a small skillet on the stove then handed her the bottle of olive oil. “We’ll need about three tablespoons of oil.”
She scanned the utensils on the counter. “I need a measuring spoon.”
He smiled. “Don’t have any of those up here, but it doesn’t have to be perfect. Cooking is a lot about feel and developing your instincts. Trusting yourself. A tablespoon is roughly one swirl around the pan. Do three of those.”
Though she was a little nervous she’d somehow manage to screw up the simplest of recipes, she followed his instructions and poured the oil into the pan. “Is that enough?”
“Yep, now wait for the oil to shimmer a little and then you can dump the almonds in. Extra virgin olive oil has a low smoke point. It can burn or catch fire quicker than other oils, so don’t use it on too high of a heat and put your ingredients in before it starts smoking.”
She felt like she was the one with the low smoke point. A few more touches and heated glances from him and she was sure she’d catch flame, too.
When the oil started to glisten and slide easily around the pan, he gave her a little nod, and she poured the almonds in. He stepped behind her, put a hand to her waist, and reached around to give the nuts a quick stir with a wooden spoon to coat them. The smell of fruity olive oil filled her nose, but all she could think about was Van pressed against her back. He was so much bigger than she was—not in the bulky way like Doug had been—but tall and lean and honed. It made her feel petite and feminine in his hold.
She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “Now what?”
“Now we wait for them to get fragrant and golden.” He set the spoon down and turned her around in his arms, shifting the two of them away from the hot stove. “And we taste.”
He picked up the olive oil again and drizzled some on his fingers. She watched in fascination as some dripped to the ground like green-gold raindrops.
“People usually think of Italy for olive oil, but Spain produces some of the finest stuff out there. Good enough to sip like wine.” He lifted his hand to her mouth then ran slick fingers over her lips. “Or to kiss off of a beautiful woman.”
Before she had time to react, he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a slow, coaxing kiss. The fruity oil slid over their lips and mixed with the lingering flavor of sangria and something distinctly him. Her
