I finished chopping the onions and tossed them in the half-cooked casserole, mixing it up and taking a deep breath. It smelled better now that I had added some spices—before it had been bland, and obvious that he had just thrown whatever he had together in a pan and put it in the oven. I shook my head, throwing it back in for another twenty minutes or so. I turned around to see Tyler leaning against the counter, his eyes on my body as I moved through the kitchen. I blushed at the look on his face—one of desire and interest, sensual curiosity. It annoyed me that my body responded to it in such a potent way; just looking at him made me remember what it had felt like to have his mouth between my legs, sucking and licking hungrily at my pussy.

I blushed again just thinking about it, meeting his eye, and he grinned when he saw the look on my face.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from him. In truth, I was thinking about how good his fingers had felt, how good that kiss had been before he’d moved his mouth to my pussy. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look at him again.

“Listen,” I said. “I think—we can be friends. But I’m not going to be anybody’s plaything.”

“It’s not like that—” he began, but I put my hand up to cut him off.

“I’ve been through shit like this before, Tyler. Men think they can use me. Just because I’m not pretty—”

“What?” he asked, gaping at me in disbelief. “What’d you say?”

I waved the words off, turning away from him, but he made his way around the counter and to the stove, standing in front of me.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Ali,” he said, looking into my eyes, and I was filled with surprise when I saw genuine earnestness in his expression.

“Stop,” I said to him, turning away.

He turned me around again though, looking into my eyes. “You’re not a plaything,” he said.

I pushed him gently away from me, shaking my head. “You said yourself I was.”

“I’m not—”

“We can be friends, Tyler,” I said, looking him in the eye, though it hurt to say the words. “Just friends. I’ve been—I’ve been hurt before, okay? And I’m not going to deal with that again. I’m just not.”

“What happened?” he asked in a gentle voice. I sighed, going back to the stove.

“I had somebody once. Not a boyfriend. A guy I fooled around with. I thought—I thought he liked me, but he was just using me to get to my sister.”

“That’s awful,” he said softly.

“She was prettier. Thinner. I get it. It makes sense,” I said.

He shook his head, taking my chin in his hand, turning my face toward his. “Ali, seriously. You are—I think—you are so—”

He stumbled over his words and I couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” I asked him. He took a deep breath, an embarrassed look passing over his face, and in that moment I realized the truth about him, that he really was interested in me. I stared at his face.

“Um,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I think—you’re the most incredible, perfect woman I’ve ever known. And I’m a fucking idiot for messing that up.”

“You are,” I said, though I was softening toward him every moment. I stayed away from him though, not going to him, not giving into my temptation to take his mouth in a kiss. I had been thinking about it ever since the last time it had happened, how perfect it had been, how natural it had felt to be with him. I had been thinking, too, about what it would have been like to go further, to take his cock deep in my pussy and feel him stretching me out again and again.

“I want to make it better,” he said, taking both of my hands in his.

I shook my head. “You can’t,” I said softly.

“I can,” he said. “I’m—I’m serious about this, Ali.”

I stared at him, unable to say words. I was truly shocked by the tone in his voice, like he meant every word he was saying. I didn’t know how it was possible—how I could possibly be his choice, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, when he was surrounded by thin, beautiful models all day long.

“I’m willing to wait for you,” he said softly when I didn’t respond after a moment, lifting his hand to my cheek and stroking it with his thumb. “I’m willing to wait until you come to me first. I’m not going to try to—I won’t seduce you, or kiss you, or touch you. I want you to know that I want more than that.”

I stared at him, unable to say words. Our eyes met and connected, looking at each other, drinking each other in until the kitchen timer went off and drew me out of my reverie. I blinked and turned around to the oven, taking the casserole out and putting it on the counter.

“Looks better,” he said. “I can’t see how it’s possible that you improved on the original.”

I laughed. “I didn’t think it was possible, either.”

“It was just so good,” he said. “But you have the magic touch.”

“I do,” I said, grinning at him. I felt more comfortable then, more relaxed as we sat down for a meal together. I was still overheated, still aroused just looking at him, thinking about what had happened between us. But I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind, trying not to focus on them—doing so would only distract me, and I didn’t want to allow myself to get close to Tyler. I didn’t trust him, not after what had happened at the party, but I had to admit to myself that I was happy to have him back, even if it meant we couldn’t touch each other.