Page 46 of His Wild Storm
Everything feels heightened. My skin is almost too tight and the plate in my hands holding a delicious dessert is the only thing stopping me from burying my fingers in his auburn hair.
I shake off the feelings of lust which are too close to the surface and find Knox holding up his spoon towards me. After a moment of confusion, I laugh and clank my spoon against his.
“Bon appétit,” Knox declares and nods toward the tiramisu which looks delicious.
“I have to say,” I tell him after taking a bite that has me stifling a moan, “I’m very impressed by your skills in the kitchen.”
Knox smirks, the action telling me it’s not the first time he’s heard the sentiment. “It didn’t take long for me to figure out no one was going to feed me after I moved out on my own.”
I nod slowly and scrunch up my nose, “No little dinner gnomes helping you out, huh?”
“No,” he sighs, clearly affronted, “can you believe they didn’t show up? Not even once!”
I giggle as we eat our tiramisu while chatting about other desserts we love and hate. For the most part we’re on the same page, until we get to something he’s not letting go of.
“I just don’t like the way cheesecake tastes,” I defend myself.
The horror mixed with pity on Knox’s face is hilarious. “You don’t like the way it tastes,” he says absently as if it’s the wildest thing he’s ever heard.
“You don’t like chocolate,” I remind him. “It’s kind of weird, don’t you think? Who doesn’t like chocolate?”
“Usually it’s too sweet,” he insists. I shoot a pointed look at his plate where only a tiny smear of custard can be found. “That’s cocoa powder. It’s not super sweet.”
I make a humming sound and lean forward to put my equally empty plate on the coffee table. After folding my legs underneath me, I lean against the back of his couch and allow myself to sink into it. It’s comfortable; too comfortable.
I could easily see myself taking a nap on this couch. Which is a silly thought.
“If you say so,” I acquiesce. “But chocolate is life.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he chuckles.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I allow my eyes to close without looking at him. The moment sinks into me, becoming part of me. And I let it.
Have I ever had a better night? A better date?
I can’t remember one.
When I open my eyes, I find him already looking at me. He studies me carefully. Even though his eyes are heated, I don’t feel like he expects anything from me. Most guys would after buying groceries and cooking dinner and making dessert for me.
“This is the best date I’ve ever had,” I murmur softly.
“Me too,” he agrees readily. Even though he doesn’t hesitate to agree, I believe him.
When he reaches for me, I don’t fight him as he pulls me across the couch cushions. Being close to him doesn’t scare me. No, it lights me up from the inside out.
“Haven,” his voice sounds like a prayer, “can I kiss you?”
I study his face where his moss green eyes are locked with mine and hiding nothing. He would let me say no and he wouldn’t hold it against me or try and convince me to change my mind. The realization has a feeling of power rushing through me.
This man.
He’s dangerous as hell.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I barely get the entire word past my lips before he’s there, his eyes intently taking me in like he’s memorizing every detail. His large hands cup my face, the warmth from him seeping into me and making me tingle from head to toe.
His lips brush against mine the first time he leans into me and our mouths touch. Even though it’s a barely there touch, it feels like fireworks and calm at the same time.
