tomatoes, the knife biting through the plump, red flesh. They smell fresh and slightly acidic, and my hand stings where I have a small paper cut, but I donât mind.
Leo has joined in now, his voice surprisingly good, if a little high-pitched. He has a huge grin on his face. Viviane sidles up next to him, and they sing the rest of the song together, their voices harmonizing nicely. Patrice and I applaud when the song is over, and our applause is joined by more from the back door as Audrey and Jack come in.
They look fresh and beautiful and the slightest bit ruffled, as though the evening breeze has caught their hair. Or as though theyâve just gotten out of bed, rumpled from sex.
Stop it.
But itâs hard. Their eyes are shining a little too brightly, their cheeks a bit too flushed, and I know that expression. I have it myself after sleeping with Audrey.
My body goes warm, remembering. And just looking at them, Audreyâs bohemian beauty, Jackâs grace, the power of his long, lean muscles, makes me sort of melt all over. Longing is like honey in my veins, making me feel soft and weak. I donât like it. Except that I do.
Unexpectedly, Audrey comes up behind me, draws my hair aside and kisses my cheek. But before I can even look up, sheâs moved on, hugging Viviane from behind, her arms wrappedaround Vivâs tall figure as they sway together with the music, and I have no idea if the kiss actually meant anything.
Jack is hanging back, a smile on his face, and God, his mouth is beautiful. I have never wanted to kiss a man more than I want to kiss Jack Curran. And Iâm still having a hard time separating out my crush on Audrey from my attraction to him. Is it all tied in? Or is it that I simply donât trust my feelings about anything? How can I trust them when Iâve been half-numb most of my life, and suddenly Iâm feelingâ¦all of this?
Emotion and chemistry and sexual yearning thatâs nearly painful.
My stomach is in knots. I try to swallow the anger, the confusion, and simply accept things the way they are. But how are they? I still donât know. I turn back to my tomatoes and give them a good hard chop.
âWhoa, easy there, girl,â Jack says. And before I can respond he is standing behind me, one arm around my body as he covers my right hand, helping me grip the knife. His skin is hot, even hotter than Audreyâs. âYouâll add your fingers to the salad if youâre not careful,â he warns.
âGross,â Leo says, laughing.
I am frozen. Jackâs body is so damn solid behind me. He smells like fresh laundry, which is suddenly utterly sensual to me. I hope Iâm not visibly shaking, but my insides are trembling. On fire. He steps away and I can breathe again. I can breathe enough to realize in some logical way what an intrusion of my personal space that was, from a man I hardly know.
Yet I want him to do it again. Want him to press up against me, want to know every plane and curve of muscle in his body, instead of this teasing little taste.
I want him. Want him!
I suppress a small groan and, more carefully this time, go at the tomatoes once more.
Somehow I get through the rest of dinner preparation, and we sit at the big indoor dining table. The lights are low, and a fire burns in the big fireplace, the acrid, ashy fragrance mixing with the scents of the food. Weâre having a Tuscan pasta dish along with the big salad and baskets of crusty Italian bread, and wine, of course. A beautifully simple meal that we eat leisurely. I love these long meals. They feel luxurious, eating and talking, lingering over the wine. Viviane serves bowls of sliced melon with crisp almond biscotti for dessert, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Audrey feeds Jack bits of the succulent melon with her fingers. I canât help myself. Her fingers disappear between his lush lips, then slide back out, and it looks sexual to me, like fucking,
Leo has joined in now, his voice surprisingly good, if a little high-pitched. He has a huge grin on his face. Viviane sidles up next to him, and they sing the rest of the song together, their voices harmonizing nicely. Patrice and I applaud when the song is over, and our applause is joined by more from the back door as Audrey and Jack come in.
They look fresh and beautiful and the slightest bit ruffled, as though the evening breeze has caught their hair. Or as though theyâve just gotten out of bed, rumpled from sex.
Stop it.
But itâs hard. Their eyes are shining a little too brightly, their cheeks a bit too flushed, and I know that expression. I have it myself after sleeping with Audrey.
My body goes warm, remembering. And just looking at them, Audreyâs bohemian beauty, Jackâs grace, the power of his long, lean muscles, makes me sort of melt all over. Longing is like honey in my veins, making me feel soft and weak. I donât like it. Except that I do.
Unexpectedly, Audrey comes up behind me, draws my hair aside and kisses my cheek. But before I can even look up, sheâs moved on, hugging Viviane from behind, her arms wrappedaround Vivâs tall figure as they sway together with the music, and I have no idea if the kiss actually meant anything.
Jack is hanging back, a smile on his face, and God, his mouth is beautiful. I have never wanted to kiss a man more than I want to kiss Jack Curran. And Iâm still having a hard time separating out my crush on Audrey from my attraction to him. Is it all tied in? Or is it that I simply donât trust my feelings about anything? How can I trust them when Iâve been half-numb most of my life, and suddenly Iâm feelingâ¦all of this?
Emotion and chemistry and sexual yearning thatâs nearly painful.
My stomach is in knots. I try to swallow the anger, the confusion, and simply accept things the way they are. But how are they? I still donât know. I turn back to my tomatoes and give them a good hard chop.
âWhoa, easy there, girl,â Jack says. And before I can respond he is standing behind me, one arm around my body as he covers my right hand, helping me grip the knife. His skin is hot, even hotter than Audreyâs. âYouâll add your fingers to the salad if youâre not careful,â he warns.
âGross,â Leo says, laughing.
I am frozen. Jackâs body is so damn solid behind me. He smells like fresh laundry, which is suddenly utterly sensual to me. I hope Iâm not visibly shaking, but my insides are trembling. On fire. He steps away and I can breathe again. I can breathe enough to realize in some logical way what an intrusion of my personal space that was, from a man I hardly know.
Yet I want him to do it again. Want him to press up against me, want to know every plane and curve of muscle in his body, instead of this teasing little taste.
I want him. Want him!
I suppress a small groan and, more carefully this time, go at the tomatoes once more.
Somehow I get through the rest of dinner preparation, and we sit at the big indoor dining table. The lights are low, and a fire burns in the big fireplace, the acrid, ashy fragrance mixing with the scents of the food. Weâre having a Tuscan pasta dish along with the big salad and baskets of crusty Italian bread, and wine, of course. A beautifully simple meal that we eat leisurely. I love these long meals. They feel luxurious, eating and talking, lingering over the wine. Viviane serves bowls of sliced melon with crisp almond biscotti for dessert, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Audrey feeds Jack bits of the succulent melon with her fingers. I canât help myself. Her fingers disappear between his lush lips, then slide back out, and it looks sexual to me, like fucking,
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