Page 16

“What exactly were you studying abroad? Culinary arts or…” Delaney trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

My answer was short and I hoped it would change the topic of conversation. “Something I no longer have a need for.” He fell silent and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Until…

“I’m curious…”

I groaned inwardly. He’d been asking more questions lately, pushing a bit in areas I wasn’t comfortable with talking about, but I couldn’t say I was uncomfortable because, well, the skeletons in my closet were, truthfully, dying to be acknowledged. So, I’d been distracting Delaney by turning the tables and asking questions about him or even using well-placed and strategically timed touch. I crossed the kitchen to stand between his legs, smirking at the gentle, nervous bob of his throat. “Yes, love?” The same tint of red returned, a bit brighter than before as it stood out against the deep brown of his complexion. Reaching up, I released voluminous curls from a loose bun, and plunged my hands into his thick hair, massaging his scalp.

Delaney shifted a bit, his body momentarily going lax under my touch. He shook his head, presumably reminding himself of the question. He cleared his throat, and in a voice that belied the mild scent of nervousness, he asked, “Why do you mask your scent? It’s polite to wear scent blockers in public, but at home…” he trailed off, reaching up to run his thumb along the band around my throat.

“Ahh.” I inhaled a slow, deep breath. I was nowhere near ready to lose Delaney. And if I answered that question honestly, I definitely would. But I didn’t want to lie either. Between a rock and a hard place, I posed a question of my own; one that I’d had for a while now. “Does it make you uneasy that I use scent blockers?” I continued to play in his hair, hopefully relaxing him and ushering this conversation to a close sooner rather than later.

“In a way,” he replied, quickly adding, “but only because you’re able to pick up on my scent and I can see the little cogs in your mind turning as you try to figure out how to address a shift in my moods without admitting that you’ve purposefully been keeping track.”

I pulled my hands from his hair, allowing them to skim along lithe legs, and kneading softly as I contemplated the appropriate answer. “Why would I not want to keep track of your moods?”

“You can ask. Instead of sniffing me like some house dog.” Delaney wrinkled his nose. “We’ve evolved past the point of needing to smell someone’s pheromones. We can ask what’s on their mind.”

“Then let me ask, what’s on your mind?”

The silence that fell was heavy. Delaney lightly chewed at his bottom lip. “Do you… not want people to know that you’re seeing someone?”

I was taken aback at the brief glimpse of a more vulnerable side of him. “Are you telling me that you like me, Laney?”

“What?!” Delaney pulled back a bit, slapping my hand on his thigh. “How did you jump to that conclusion from me asking if you’re keeping our rendezvousing a secret?”

“Because.” Wrapping an arm around Delaney's waist, I tugged him forward until he was nearly hanging off the counter. “You’ve been asking me a lot of questions that lead me to believe you really want to get to know me outside of a few lunches and dinner dates that turn into breakfast dates.” I smiled, leaning in to punctuate my statement with a kiss, but was thwarted by a slender hand pushing my face away.

“Conversation includes questions, Eli.”

“But all of the questions are about me,” I whined, throwing my head back.

“And who else would they be about? Your parents? Your brother? The only two people who would not agree with me when I say that you’re an asshole?”

“I would love to discuss the latter.”

“You’re inexplicably frustrating,” Delaney huffed.

“And you’re incredibly endearing.” This time I dodged his hand to place a kiss on his neck. Like a gentle tide, any tension that was in his body ebbed away as I parted my lips against his cool skin, dragging the tip of my tongue in languid circles.

“You’re not playing fair,” Delaney accused, his voice trembling.

I nipped at the same spot, my lips brushing against his sensitive skin. “Why would I do that when I’m playing to win?” I kissed along his neck, coming to rest just beneath his ear.

He exhaled shakily. “What’s the prize?”

The corner of my lip curled into a half smile. I breathed against the shell of his ear, “You, of course.”

Delaney's legs tightened around my waist, the movement pulling him forward. He locked his ankles together, keeping me caged. My heart skipped a beat when he leaned back far enough to make eye contact. I stared into the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen—ones that I could get lost and saw a future in—questioning if I was already adrift and just how far gone I was.

“You’re damn right I’m a prize.” Delaney replied, before leaning in to kiss me.

His mouth was always so soft, so gentle when he kissed me. He moved timidly at first. However, his confidence built quickly, and he was stealing my breath away, leaving a roaring fire burning in my gut. Kissing him was addictive in so many ways, but mainly because he always sighed into the kiss and that drove me crazy.

Once that small rush of breath died between us, I scrambled to undress him, breaking the kiss to pull his oversized yellow sweater up and over his head.

“Wait—,” Delaney started, weakly pushing at my chest. “Dinner—”