Page 110 of Hard Hitter
“Subtle,” Ari said, and he grinned. “Sure. Let’s do that.”
He checked his watch. “It’s only four thirty, though. Too early for dinner.”
“Hmm.” Ari put her own shoes back on. “How will we pass the time?”
When she looked up, Patrick gave her a slow grin. “I have a few ideas.”
“So do I.”
THIRTY-TWO
As it turned out, Ari’s idea for how to pass the time was not the same as his. She dragged him to the grocery store. “It’s been a while since I cooked a good meal,” she explained. “I miss it.”
Who was he to get in the way of that? Besides, she was really fucking cute as she inspected the tomatoes and bullied the fish guy into giving her the best salmon filets.
“Your kitchen or mine?” he asked, carrying the bags out of the store.
“Hmm. You have that awesome Wolf range that I covet. But do you have a good sauté pan?”
“Probably. David and Dexter liked to cook.”And my bed is bigger.
“All right. I’ll risk it. Hang on—we need a bottle of wine.”
A half hour later Ari stood chopping tomatoes at his counter, singing along with Green Day. Patrick had changed into sweats and a T-shirt. His ass was parked against the refrigerator, a glass of wine in hand as he watched her cook. He’d never say it out loud, but he loved having her in his kitchen. Not because he was a sexist pig, but because nobody had ever cooked for him before.Fedhim. Forget theseven-thousand dollar oven that was preheating for their dinner. Ari was the luxury here.
“Where did we put those olives?” she asked.
He set down his glass of wine and fetched them out of the refrigerator. When he brought them over to Ari’s workstation, he lingered behind her, pulling her hair out of the way and kissing her neck.
“Mmm,” she said with a sigh. “What’s that for?”
Cooking for me. Being with me. Trusting me. “Do I need a reason?”
“No.” Her voice was low.
“I just like you, that’s all.” He ran a hand down her elegant back, the lean yoga muscles resisting his touch. He cupped her bottom in one hand and kissed her hair.
Ari opened the tub of olives and began spooning them out onto the cutting board. “These get chopped a bit, and mixed with the tomatoes and garlic,” she explained. “Then I add the breadcrumbs and douse it all with olive oil.”
He lifted the column of her hair and leaned in again, kissing her neck. She smelled of lavender and fresh food, and he did not want to stop. Unbidden, his hands found her hips.
“That is...” She took a breath. “Really distracting.”
His fingertips lifted her top, skimming her tummy over the waistband of her jeans. “Should I stop?” he asked between kisses beneath her ear.
“Um...”
Before she could answer, he caressed her, one hand cupping her breasts while the other unzipped her jeans.
“Ungggh,” she mumbled, relaxing back against him.
“Put the knife down, sweetheart.” He smiled into her hair.
“Good idea.”
He heard it come to rest on the cutting board as his fingertips dipped into her panties. He teased the top of her mound and sighed. “I’m in the mood to spoil you.”
“I’m in the mood to let you.”
