Page 84 of Pride and Protest
Liza had never seen Dorsey so relaxed and natural. She shook her head. She had been half on fire all night because of him. He stripped her of all her finely held ideas, all her notions, grinding everything down to one crystallizing fact: she wanted him. Maybe not forever. Maybe not even for a week. But right now, for tonight. It bothered her how primitive it all was. A rich, out-of-reach man, a tight butt, and an erection—it was some kind of basic recipe. And she hated to be lured by it. It would mean that she wasn’t who she said she was. Was she principled, or would she bend the rules when they suited her? Could happiness really be found in the arms of a man? Her body screamed,Yes. God, she was just like her mother but with a master’s degree.
In her pensiveness, she had stopped stirring, and Joseph furrowed his eyebrows at her in question. Liza snapped back and swirled the onions, garlic, and ginger vigorously—too vigorously, it seemed.
“Whoa. Your head’s in the clouds,” Dorsey said.
As if you didn’t put it there.
He was suddenly behind her. His hand covered hers, and he slowed her furious mix down to a steady swirl. “Easy,” his voice rumbled in her ear.
His other hand rested loosely on her hip. The heat of it warmed her insides and made her pulse. If she didn’t release this pressure, she would burst.
Liza blushed to her toes.Dear lord, how would she last the night?
When her eyes flicked down to Dorsey’s hands, he flitted them away and returned to the sticky rice sitting in cool bowls. He looked chastened. How could he still be unsure of where he stood with her? Liza wondered if she was aware of what she wanted herself. When the food was finished, Joseph seasoned the flavorful bowl with salt and pepper, then garnished it with green onion and lemon slices. She took pictures for her Instagram feed, carefully disabling the location as she bragged online about her bowl of rice.
When Joseph Park popped up to take credit for the dish, her feed exploded.
He took a video of her dancing to Korean hip-hop and posted:The face behind the voice. The moves behind the jams. #givesajam #goodgirl #wherewereU #askingforafriend
Liza looked at her profile. She had over a thousand new followers in twenty minutes.
“Dorsey? Are you ready to taste?” Joseph asked.
“I’ve been ready for a long time,” Dorsey said. His eyes were not on the steaming bowl, but on Liza.
Liza crept toward him, careful not to spill the contents of the wooden spoon. She nestled between his thighs and lifted the long-handled spoon to Dorsey’s lips. He parted his mouth and tasted the first bite. His eyes closed. “Mmmm, damn.” Dorsey swallowed. “That’s missing something, though.” Liza’s shoulders sagged. Dorsey reached behind her and pulled the bottle of fish sauce off the counter. He then poured nearly half the contents of the bottle into the bowl, splashing it everywhere, then mixed it in with the wooden spoon. “Try me again.”
Liza held the spoon up again, and he took a generous portionand rolled his eyes. “Good lord, that’s delicious.” Dorsey took the spoon from Liza’s hand and held it up to her lips. “Taste,” he said.
She parted her mouth tentatively, and Dorsey wiggled the spoon. “Open for me.” He coaxed and when she made a soft slurping sound, the spoon trembled in her mouth and the softest whimper escaped his lips. The soupwasdelicious. So warm and perfect for the still chilly March weather.
“It’s amazing.”
“Thank me later!” Joseph headed to the stairs. “I’ll be back down in five.”
“Thank you, Joseph,” Liza said. Dorsey’s friend was a breath of fresh air. She was surprised by her immediate fondness for him.
“Call me Park.”
“I’ve always tried to make this myself, but it never comes out this good,” Dorsey told Liza.
“I have a golden-brown thumb. It’s like a green thumb but for cooking,” Park called as he disappeared up the stairs.
“Don’t take credit for my masterpiece,” Liza teased.
It was insane how quickly their spoons clattered against the bowl. Liza met Dorsey’s gaze. He still looked hungry.
“Done eating?” she asked.
“Not even started,” Dorsey pulled an old iPod and speaker out of a messenger bag, placed them on the kitchen counter, and hit play. “Shall we?” he asked. He poured enormous glasses of dark red wine that clinked as he padded barefoot to the living room. He placed the glasses down carefully on a wooden slate and pressed a button on a gray remote. Instantly, a fire sprang to life in the chilly room. “Dim the lights,” he said aloud.
Liza smirked as the lights immediately turned down.
He sat wide-legged on the carpet and patted the soft spot near him.
The red wine was warm and buttery, and Liza let her back rest on his chest. So this was what it was like to feel completely at ease with someone. His big hands moved across her belly.
He looked up at the loft. “Liza,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “I want to— Can I?” Liza was prepared to say yes to just about anything:
