Page 37 of When I Come Back
“Let’s table that for tonight.” She goes to say something else, already looking annoyed, but I speak again before she gets a word out. “I promise we’ll talk about it. I just need more time to wrap my head around everything. Trust me when I say I want nothing more than for RED to continue to succeed and grow. I know how much it means to you, how much it meant to my parents. All I’m asking for is some trust and a little bit of time. Can you give me that?” She stares at me for a moment like she’s waging a war in her mind to determine if she’s willing to lose this battle and then slowly nods.
“Good. Now,” I say, turning back to the ingredients littering the counter. “Will you be my sous chef?”
She rolls her eyes, but I finally get a smile. “I’m at your service, Chef,” she says with a small bow. The smile turns into a smirk, and I know she knows exactly how that sounds and what those words do to my cock. She grabs a portable speaker from the living room and places it on the counter in the kitchen.
“Here, dice the tomatoes for the bruschetta. I’ll get started on the chicken.” I set the oven to preheat, open the bottle of red wine I picked up before getting here, pour us each a glass, and leave the bottle to breathe. Thea grabs the fresh veggies and rinses them in the sink before beginning to chop and dice.
I sift through her spice cabinet for the basics: salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder. Everything in the kitchen is exactly where her mom kept it when she lived here. It’s comforting and brings me back to the many afternoons I spent here whipping up snacks for us after school. I feel more connected to her now than I have since coming back simply because of where we are and what we’re doing.
We work in silence with only the slow melodic beats of Zach Bryan playing softly from the speaker Thea turned on. We move around each other in the cozy kitchen like we’ve been doing this exact thing for years. I catch her watching me as I season the whole chicken I got at the butcher’s booth today. Her eyes are a little glazed, and her pouty mouth is slightly open.
I motion toward my mouth and say, “Is that drool for dinner or for me?” As soon as the question leaves my lips, I know she’s going to give me one of her snarky answers, and the anticipation has me thrumming. This feels like before, like when I could read her every thought just by being in the same room as her.
She immediately snaps out of her daze, and sucks her lips in between her teeth, while her cheeks turn that pretty pink color I love.
“Don’t be getting cocky now. I’m just hungry.” She isn’t fooling either of us, but I let the lie slide. Her eyes go back to thetask in front of her as she drizzles the balsamic glaze over the bruschetta she’s putting together. When she looks back up, she catches me staring this time, and her lips tilt up in a smirk. We continue in silence that I wish felt more comfortable. There’s a layer of tension coating the air, and I’m not sure how to diffuse it.
“Bruschetta’s ready,” she says, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. After a beat, she adds, “I’m sorry, but I really have to know. Are you going back to Seattle?” I should have known she wouldn’t leave the difficult conversations for another day. Thea was always able to flirt one second then turn serious the next. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep sidestepping her questions, but I wanted tonight to be about us and nothing else.
“Let’s not think about that tonight. Tonight is about good food.” I cut off a piece of the bruschetta and hold it up to her mouth. She takes the bite and lets out a moan that almost brings me to my knees. “Delicious wine.” I grab her glass then step in close to her front, backing her to the island, and lift the wineglass to her lips. She grabs it from me and takes a sip. “And mouthwatering company.” I wait until she swallows her wine, and then I lean down and kiss her. I glide my tongue against the seam of her lips, gently asking for entrance. She opens, and I taste the tang of the tomato, tannins of the wine, and sweetness of the balsamic glaze on her tongue. I could spend all night kissing her plump lips, but I slowly make my way down her chin to her neck with kisses and small nips.
I take the wine glass from her hand and place it on the island next to us. Her hands come up to my face and then into my hair. I feel her tugging out the tie holding my hair back.
“Fuck. It’s better than I imagined,” she says looking at where my hair falls around my face as I pull back.
“You’ve been thinking about my hair?” I say with a small laugh.
“Among other things.” She rakes her hands through it, seemingly enjoying the feeling.
“Hmmm,” I hum while going back to kissing her neck. She leans her head back giving me more access and closes her eyes. “I’ve been thinking too.”
“Oh yeah?” Her voice is breathless. Hearing her give in to what she’s feeling hardens my cock behind my fly. But her vulnerability also makes me pause.
I have to try to make this work with her. I feel it with everything in my body, my soul. I can guess where tonight is leading, and I need to talk to her, tell her about my life in Seattle before we take this next step. I owe that to her and to myself. I’ve dug a deep hole by keeping things from her, maybe too deep. But I have to explain and try to make her understand that despite how much of a dick I’ve been, I can’t lose her. I’ll beg for her forgiveness if I have to for as long as I have to.
“There’s something I have to tell you first,” I say, pulling back and putting some distance between us. She opens her eyes at the change in my tone. We stare at each other for a while, tension building, and I know I have to use this moment to tell her everything. “Listen.” I pause and swallow over the lump in my throat. “I know you have Ripley, and I have—“
“I think I’m still in love with you,” she blurts out, cutting me off and surprising herself as if she didn’t mean for it to come out.
When her words finally register, my movements are no longer my own. I grab her face and slam my mouth to hers. Her hands grab my shoulders. We kiss as though our lives depend on it. I inhale her intoxicating lemony scent and her soft moans as I desperately fuck her mouth with my tongue.
Confessions be damned.
Chapter Eighteen
Thea
Cary’s hands grip my waist to lift me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips instinctively, my lips never leaving his. The moment he said Ripley’s name, I should have come clean about our fake relationship, but those aren’t the words that slipped from my lips. No, I told my ex-boyfriend—who thinks I’m cheating on my current “boyfriend”—that I might, maybe, possibly still be in love with him. I’m lucky he didn’t tell me I’m crazy and walk out the door. Instead, he pulled me into a searing kiss like he’d been waiting for me to say those exact words.
It was the best possible reaction and definitely gave me the confidence to be more vulnerable with him. I need to tell him that Ripley and I aren’t actually together though. I’m such a shit human being for letting him think I’m cheating.
Before my mind can spiral too much, he lays me down on the kitchen island. The cold granite brings a chill to my skin through my shirt as my back makes contact with it. Cary leans over meand angles his head to reach my ear. “I’ve been waiting eight fuckingyears to hear those words again,fuck.”
His lips reach the spot behind my ear, and, mixed with his words, it sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold counter under my overheated skin. He kisses his way back to my lips, leaving a hot trail from my ear to my chin. This kiss is different from the others. It’s desperate and hungry, but there’s a layer to it that’s more than just desire. It’s sensual in a way I haven’t felt since long before I even left Seattle. His tongue has barely breached the seam of my lips when he pulls away, and I whine at the separation.
“Thea…” he starts, his breathing already heavy. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel you wrapped around me again.” This is his way of asking permission, so I nod my head yes. I’m so far gone for this man I can’t form words right now. He gives me a soft kiss then pulls away once more to say, “I want to taste you again first. I want to feel your thighs tremble and clench around my head as you come. And I want your cum on my tongue while I fuck you senseless with my cock.” He smirks against my lips as he says his filthy words, knowing it’ll turn me on.
His lips travel down my neck and his hands push my shirt up and over my head to expose my chest. He kisses the swell of my breasts, making me arch my back then he reaches around to unclasp my bra. My nipples are hardened peaks seeking his attention as he throws the material to the floor to join my discarded shirt. He wastes no time bringing his lips to the buds, sucking gently, my moan filling the room.
