Chapter Twenty-Four
The scent of freshly cut onions and green peppers teased Carson’s nose as he sprinkled the diced vegetables over the egg mixture. He covered the frying pan, slid two pieces of bread into the toaster and took a hit of his coffee before turning back to the omelet.
He lifted and maneuvered the runny eggs to the underside, then layered fresh spinach leaves over the top. It’d been forever since he’d taken the time to cook a big breakfast, but his stomach was growling in anticipation.
“Wow,” Avery said as she stepped into the room. “You really do know how to cook.” She rubbed her eyes, yawned. Her smile held that lazy morning softness as she shoved her hair away from her face, which was still rosy from sleep. She wore his gray T-shirt again, the one he’d left out for her this time. His dick twitched at the thought of her naked beneath it.
He’d intended to put some distance between them after that night at the private club, only to wake up the next morning thinking about her. Having dreamed about her.
Wanting her even more.
Which had led to coffee that night after work, and their date last night, along with a few dozen texts in between.
“I’m not promising anything,” he told her, refocusing on his task before he burnt everything. The shirt was hers now, really. He’d never be able to wear it without thinking of her. The microwave beeped, and he opened it to take the bacon out.
She inhaled. “It smells wonderful.”
“If nothing else, we’ll have bacon and toast.” He added the pieces to the ones he’d already cooked and turned back to sprinkle cheese on the omelet. “It’s almost ready.” He motioned to the pods lined up by the coffee pot. “I bought some new flavors.” He flipped the omelet in half, success blazing when it didn’t fall apart.
Her arms snaked around his waist, and he stilled, a sense of peace weaving through him. She laid her head between his shoulder blades, and he absorbed the sensation of having her pressed to him.
It was simple, nice and way more intimate than a lot of the sex he’d participated in.
“Thank you.” Her breath warmed him through the silky material of his athletic shirt. A wave of goose bumps chased the heat, and that crazy fluttering kicked up in his chest. “But you didn’t have to.”
“I know.” He turned the burner off, used the spatula to cut the omelet and then slid each half onto a plate. “I wanted to.” She moved with him, swaying with his little shifts as he finished.
“How come?” She pressed a kiss to his back, then stepped away to read the labels on the coffee pods.
He frowned, distracted. “How come what?”
“How come you wanted to cook?” She plopped a pod in the reservoir and closed the lid. Her smile held nothing but curiosity when she glanced at him.
He waited for the coffee machine to finish its preparatory grind and chug before answering. “Because I haven’t in a long time.” Not for someone else.
“No?” She quirked a brow at him. “Well, for the record, you can cook for me anytime you want.” She took her mug and sat down on the bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island. Her smile grew after her first sip of coffee. Not quite orgasmic, but definitely satisfied.
He cleared his throat and turned to butter the toast. It’d be so easy to forget breakfast and drag her back to his bedroom. “Do you have plans today?” he asked to keep his thoughts away from her in his bed, naked, panting, begging to come.
“I usually go to the farmers’ market on Saturday mornings.” She sat back when he set her plate before her. Steam still wisped from the omelet, and she inhaled, humming. “This looks really good. What’s in it?”
He shrugged her compliment off. “Just some veggies and cheese.” She took a bite of bacon as he came around to sit beside her. “Which market do you go to?” There were multiple ones around the city on any given day.
“We usually go to the big one at the Ferry Plaza.”
“We?”
“Karen and I.” She shrugged. “But I told her I might be busy today.” She shot him a side glance, an impish smile in place.
That silly chest flutter started again to spread a wave of happiness through him. How fucking silly was that? But he didn’t stop his smirk nor could he resist teasing her. “Oh yeah? With whom?”
Her scowl was about as menacing as a puppy. She hit his arm mumbling, “Jerk.”
“Who, me?” He shot her the innocent face he’d perfected before he’d hit his teens. With three boys in the house, one of them had always been in trouble, and he’d done whatever he could to avoid his dad’s wrath—and his mom’s. Her disappointed glare was worse than his dad’s bellow.
“I’m not buying that innocent thing,” she told him. “I know way too much about you to fall for it.”
She did. He couldn’t deny it, and that was yet another step into the unknown. One he had no desire to retreat from.
He turned his focus to his plate and dug into his food. He had no comeback, not even a joking one. This thing with Avery was moving faster than he could control. His stomach did a queasy dip and roll that he’d become accustomed to in the last week. He ignored it though, identifying it for the nervous fear that it was.
“How did you get such good tickets to the show last night?” she asked. She took a bite of the omelet and gave another low hum of approval.
He stared at her, thoughts racing back to the previous night when he’d stripped her slowly before using every trick he knew to hear that exact same sound. He cleared his throat, shifted his legs apart as he took a drink of his coffee. “Trevor,” he answered when he could think beyond his dick.
“You’ll have to thank him for me.” She smiled, touching his arm. “How did you know I loved Broadway shows?”
He shrugged. “Who doesn’t?” Gregory had relayed the suggestion from his wife, but Carson would never divulge that. Just add it to the list of things he hadn’t told her. The guilt nudged him, but he stubbornly ignored it—or tried to. Fuck.
He sat his fork down and turned on the stool to face her. She lifted a brow, her mouth turning up at the corner. “What?” Teasing suspicion laced the word and lightened her eyes to a pale blue instead of that darker, passionate hue.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, deliberately vague. Where would she go with the answer? How would she define the question?
She sobered, brows dipping as she sat up. “With what?”
His smile tugged at his mouth. He should’ve known she wouldn’t fall for the simple bait. “Where we’re at.” Another vague answer.
She turned to face him, her knees nestling between his wider-spread ones. Her contemplation lasted a few moments, but he waited her out. “I was,” she finally said. “Until you just said something.” She clasped her hands on her lap, head tilting. “So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He trapped her hands in his and stroked the backs with his thumbs in an attempt to sooth. “Honestly,” he reassured her. “I just wanted to check. We started off at a very different point than where we are now.” Just sex. Wild, passionate, erotic sex.
And now?
“True.” Her nod was a slow, contemplative one. “Is that an issue for you?” She tried to tug her hands free of his, but he wouldn’t release them. Not when she was retreating so quickly.
“No.” He shook his head, ensuring she read the truth in his eyes. “I have no problem with how things have changed.” Yet he still refused to articulate exactly how it’d changed. He still wasn’t ready to admit that, not even to himself.
Her gaze dropped to their hands, and he searched for the words that’d ease the worry he’d placed within her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She looked up, nodded.
“What did you think of the sex club the other night?” They’d never discussed it afterward. He should’ve asked her when they’d left, but he’d still been spinning from the idea of a baby with Avery, not to mention angry at his own reckless disregard for basic safety.
Her expression shifted from confusion to honesty, though. Her lips compressed before she spoke. “It was different. Hot in some ways, but...” She frowned, and that lovely pink tinge worked its way over her cheeks.
“But what?” he prompted when she remained silent.
She blew out a breath, mouth twisting. “But it wasn’t as intimate.”
He held his smile back, nodding in understanding. “As the Boardroom.”
“Yes.” Her eyes were wide with that innocence of hers, but they included the knowledge of exactly what they both liked about the Boardroom scenes.
“It brings it deeper, doesn’t it?”
She nodded in slow agreement.
“The shared experience,” he continued. “The implied circle of trust between the group. The sexual acts witnessed and performed in the open yet exclusively private.”
Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. “Yes,” she whispered. “That.” She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Heat smoldered in her eyes, darkening them until he could read every dirty thought simmering within her. Want. Lust. That edge of excitement. Of loving the implied wrong.
He released her hand to run his fingers over her jaw. She closed her eyes, chin lifting to follow his touch. And there was that soft trust. The trace of naïvety that called to him and made her passion so alluring. “Do you want to continue doing scenes there?” His breath stuck in his lungs, his own wants twisting between yes and no.
Her eyes fluttered open to show the indecision warring within her, so like his own. “I don’t know.” Her brows pulled down. “I—” She swallowed. “I like them as we’ve done them.”
In other words, the rules remain the same. Which was so damn perfect. “We can do more of that.” So much more of that.
“Is that what you want?”
Driving her mad while others watched in envy? Touching her? Teasing her knowing he was the only one who could pleasure her? Make her come? Feel her clench around him?
Yeah, he could so do that.
“As long as you do,” he qualified.
She leaned in and braced her hands on his thighs. His skin buzzed at the gleam in her eyes and the promises they held.
He cupped her jaw, amazed that she was even discussing the option, let alone considering it. Could he really have her and his kink?
“I do,” she whispered.
His pulse jumped, heart hitching at the gift she’d handed him. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” he asked, the pure wonder escaping with his awe.
“No.” Her smile tweaked. “But you can do it anytime.”
His laughter tumbled out on two short breaths as he drew her in. “I plan on it.” He closed his mouth over hers, contentment flowing with that other emotion struggling to be acknowledged.
There was no need to analyze it, though. Not when he had everything he wanted right here.
Her lips parted, and he brushed his tongue over hers, tasted the dark hint of coffee and lighter cast of the food. She moaned, longing stringing through the rumble.
Fuck. He couldn’t draw away from that. Apparently, he couldn’t deny her anything. Not that he wanted to.
Not anymore.