Page 33 of Dreams and Desires

The staff is instructed to leave the kitchen, and soon it's just me and Zade. I can feel his eyes on me, devouring me with every movement.

"Make an apricot pie," he tells me flatly, like he's already my boss.

I nod, trying to steady my hands as I gather the ingredients. His presence is unnerving, and I can feel his gaze burning into me, making me hyper-aware of every step I take.

I start by making the pastry dough, my fingers working quickly to mix the flour, butter, and water. As I roll out the dough, I can feel Zade's eyes tracing the curves of my body, his intense scrutiny making my skin tingle. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my thoughts keep drifting to him—the way he looks at me, the raw desire in his eyes.

“You’re really watching me like a hawk,” I snap, trying to distract myself from the heat building inside me.

“Just making sure you don't slip up,” he replies smoothly, leaning against the counter, his eyes never leaving me.

“Afraid I might be too good?” I challenge, arching an eyebrow as I line the pie dish with the dough.

“We'll see about that,” he says, his lips curving into a smirk.

I prepare the apricots, slicing them thinly, and arrange them in the crust. I can feel Zade's presence behind me, close enough that I can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. It lights a fire that spreads through my body, and I have to bite my lip to keep from losing focus.

“You know, you could give me some space,” I mutter, mixing the sugar and spices.

"Why? Am I distracting you?" he throws back, clearly messing with me.

“Yes,” I admit. My voice is almost a whisper.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending another shiver through me. “Good.”

I pour the mixture over the apricots and then place the pie in the oven. The next few minutes are excruciatingly long as we wait for it to bake.

“Why are you really here, Zade?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“To see if you can make a decent pie,” he answers, but his eyes say something entirely different.

“And?” I press, wanting to know more.

“And to see if you can handle the pressure,” he adds, his gaze intense.

Finally, the pie is done. I take it out of the oven, and the golden crust and bubbling filling look perfect. I set it on the counter to cool, my hands trembling slightly.

Zade steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He picks up a fork and cuts a piece of the pie, bringing it to his lips. He takes a bite, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the taste. When he opens them again, they are filled with a fierce intensity.

“It’s incredible!” He exclaims.

Before I can respond, he closes the distance between us, his hand reaching up to gently remove my glasses, setting them aside with care. Then he leans in and kisses me. It’s not just a brush. It’s not aggressive either. It lands somewhere in between—certain, warm, a little desperate. Like he’s been thinking about this too much and finally stopped trying to hold it in.

“Zade, what are you doing?” I breathe, pulling back just enough to speak.

He doesn’t back off, just mutters real low, “You’re stuck in my head, Juniper.”

My chest tightens. “This… this is insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, his hand finding mine. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”

I don’t answer. I don’t know how. Part of me wants to leave. Run. Pretend none of this is happening. The other part—the louder part—leans in and kisses him again. Softer this time. Slower. My hand finds his shoulder without thinking, and I feel the way he exhales against my cheek like he’s been waiting for that second kiss.

Somewhere in my brain, I know I should stop. I should say something to set the boundary. But I don’t. Not yet.

"You're hired," he blurts out, words coming out heavy, no filter.

I blink. “What?”

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