“I’m starving.”
Still in the midst of post-coital recovery, I blinked up at a ceiling fan before finding the gumption to turn my head to the side and take in Ezra’s expression.
His entire body rolled my way until he was facing me and lay on his side where he tucked his hand under his cheek and grinned with so much animation he practically glowed. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Uh…” At the moment, I couldn’t rightly answer. I felt so limp and sapped of all energy after what we’d just done, my brain was still trying to process what hungry and starving even meant.
Ezra, on the other hand, seemed energized and ready to tackle the world. Laughing, he popped up into a sitting position with way too much enthusiasm, asking, “When was the last time you ate?”
“Umm…” Too boneless and sated to think properly, I frowned. “I don’t know. Noon?”
Noon was a word, right?
“Then you could definitely eat too.”
I could? Okay. Whatever he thought best. Because he was the best.
He hopped off the bed, still in nothing but that aphrodisiac tie, and he dug through a pile of clothes on the floor until he found his boxer shorts and pulled them on. Finally, the tie went bye-bye as he tugged it off and flung it aside. I tried not to whimper as it fluttered to the floor, already missing the feel of it against my flesh.
“Let’s raid the kitchen,” he was saying. “Then bring everything back here for a picnic on the bed. You know, refuel before our next round.” His boyish grin was adorable as he wiggled his eyebrows my way. “I’ll even cook.”
Wait up. Had he just said… I’ll cook? And also picnic in bed? Was this guy my spirit animal? In that moment, I swear I loved him more than I loved bacon. Or chocolate. Like, if all three of Ezra, bacon, and chocolate were rolling off a cliff at the same time, I’d dive to save him first.
My petrified expression of shock caused him to chuckle… One of those really sexy, low-pitch, make-your-ovaries-tremble-with-glee chuckles.
“Come on.” He returned to the bed and took my arm, manually helping me sit up. “You can still move, right?”
I wasn’t sure. “I think.” To test it, I lifted one arm before letting it fall limply back into my lap. “Kind of.”
My reaction amused him; he laughed again. “Here.” He picked up his white V-neck undershirt from the floor only to tug it over my head. “You wear this, or I’ll get distracted and burn all the food.”
“’Kay,” I said, gazing up at him in absolute adoration, because seriously, was he even real?
Maybe everything since the night of the Halloween party had been one elaborate, too-good-to-be-true dream. Yeah. I bet when I’d gone down the stairs into my old workroom to save Jacqueline, I’d forgotten about that low-hanging pipe and I’d hit my head. I was probably still lying on the cold metal stairs in some kind of coma. Lord, I hope someone found me soon. The idea of Uncle Bru having to clean up all the blood that was no-doubt seeping from my head wound was kind of worrisome.
Other than that, I was actually fine with staying right there, in coma land.
With Ezra.
“Kaitlynn?” A sexy male hand waved in front of my face. Then his face appeared in front of me, his blue eyes squinted with concern. “You still with me, Yellow?”
I nodded, only to answer, “I dunno. I think maybe you fucked me stupid.”
He laughed.
I seriously loved his laugh.
Hooking his hands under my armpits, he answered, “Not possible. You’re still too adorably witty to be stupid yet. But maybe after a few more rounds…” He shrugged and grinned, insinuating that anything was possible.
Hauling me up, he hoisted me over his shoulder, like literally, over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Any food recommendation for the cook?” he asked, starting from the room and smacking his palm against my bare, exposed butt.
“Uh…” I said, still too discombobulated by what was happening.
“Good,” he cut in before I could even think up an answer. “Because I really only know how to cook one thing anyway. It was the only thing my mom knew how to cook, and she taught me the trade.”
We entered the kitchen where he gently lowered me to sit on the kitchen counter, pausing to kiss the end of my nose before he turned away to open the refrigerator.
I wiggled a bit so the back of his shirt covered my tush and I wasn’t sitting directly on cold Formica, but otherwise I remained where he left me, content to watch him do his thing and super curious about this overly-cheerful, good mood he seemed to be in.
“So your mom didn’t cook much?” I asked, eager to learn everything I could about him and his family and childhood.
He appeared from behind the refrigerator door, still wearing nothing but boxer shorts and holding a tub of butter along with a package of American cheese slices.
“Nah,” he answered, closing the door with his hip since his hands were full. “We had a cook—Mrs. Pan—who was like a miracle worker in the kitchen. Mom spent most of her time at the office with Dad. She had this knack for working the stock market and making money. And Dad could take what she earned and put it into the physical stuff, you know, buying companies and making profits from them. God…” He paused at the counter with a nostalgic smile as he shook his head. “They made an awesome business team. I didn’t really realize how awesome of a team they made until I started working at JFI.”
I watched his smile die when he focused on the butter tub and cheese he’d set on the counter beside me. The way he missed his mother was practically tangible. I wondered if I touched his skin in that moment, would I actually feel the ache?
Because I wanted to share it with him, I reached out and set my hand on his forearm. He glanced at me sharply.
“You miss her a lot.”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded rusty, so he cleared it and glanced away, wiping his hands on his hips. “It’s hard not to. She was the best. Where do you keep your bread?”
I patted his arm gently before pointing toward a cabinet across the room. “In there.”
He smiled at me as if thanking me for the comfort, only to remove my hand from him, then kiss my knuckles and set them in my lap. Then he left me to retrieve the bread.
“All you have is wheat bread?” he asked a moment later, pulling the loaf from the cabinet and facing me with a cringe.
“What?” I shrugged defensively. “It’s healthier.”
“Uh huh. Is that why it’s sitting next to cheese puffs, chocolate bars, sugar cookies, and a bag of Doritos?”
“Hey, I gotta balance out somewhere.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Just when I think you can’t get any cuter,” he murmured, returning to me before asking where the butter knives were stored.
I merely swung my feet and grinned, feeling good—feeling great—as I watched him hunt through my drawers until he found a knife. Seriously, who knew watching a man navigate his way around my kitchen would be so hot? Maybe it was the shirtless, pantless aspect that made it so nice. But I sure did enjoy the show.
He found a pan in the warming drawer under the oven and set it on the stove before turning the heat up. The bending-down-to-fetch-it was my favorite part. But I also got a little mesmerized with watching his back muscles shift and bunch after he straightened and reached for the heating knobs. I figured I had it really bad when I even enjoyed the bulge in his arms when he used the non-stick spray to grease the bottom of the pan.
My tongue came out to wet the surface of my lips, because oh yeah, no one made cooking look quite as delicious as Ezra Nash did.
“So Broderick worked you overtime again tonight, huh?” he asked conversationally as he washed his hands before opening the bread bag.
I nodded, distracted by the meticulous way he covered the counter with paper towels and set down each piece of bread on them, one beside the other in a neat row.
“Yeah, uh, we’ve been working on the Purses portfolio we have to present on Friday. Finally finished it this evening.”
Ezra paused from buttering the bread to raise his eyebrows my way. “Really? Already? That’s awesome. I doubt my department will have the Jackets portfolio finished until late tomorrow. I swear, I was about to strangle two members on my team until they finally compromised on an idea this morning. And it was because of patches on elbows of all things.”
“Oh! I think I met them in the elevator,” I announced brightly before knitting my brow. “But they didn’t seem that at-odds about it. After I made a little suggestion, they seemed totally willing to work together.”
“Wait.” Ezra stopped buttering to point his knife at me, his eyes wide with shock. “Were you the woman who fixed their fight?” Suddenly, he gripped my face in both hands and kissed me on the lips with a quick, hard peck. “Oh my God, babe. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. They’d been fighting nonstop for over a week about it, and then suddenly, they returned from a smoke break and everything was fine again. Said some lady they met in the elevator put it all in perspective for them.”
“Uh… Maybe that wasn’t me, then,” I tried. “I mean, I barely said anything. Just that it wouldn’t hurt anything to try it one way. It could always be changed if it didn’t work.”
“I have no idea what you said, but it freaking worked. You are a kickass mediator.”
“Well…” I flushed and ducked my head, not sure how to take such a compliment. “I’ve actually enjoyed working with everyone in Purses on our portfolio,” I added, totally changing the subject. “I was so proud of how it turned out; I had to scan all the pages and save PDF files as a keepsake.” I laughed at my own silliness. “I’m such a sentimental sap.”
“I think it’s sweet,” he said, nudging my arm with his before he finished buttering the bread and then put the cheese sandwiches together.
“That reminds me,” I told him, not sure how any of this made me think of what I suddenly remembered. “Lana knows I’m working at JFI again.”
Ezra stopped piling bread to turn to me, his gaze serious and eyes dark with concern. “She knows? Everything?”
“Not about us, I’m sure,” I reassured. “But she stormed Brick’s office and threatened him.” I filled him in on all the women who had shown up not long after that.
Ezra gave a low whistle. “Wow, poor Carmichael. She’s definitely one vindictive woman.”
I nodded, though at the moment, my stepmother was the last concern on my mind. I was too content to be here, right in this moment with Ezra.
After he finished making our grilled cheese sandwiches, burning one side because we got a little too carried away making out during the wait, we returned to my room, where we fed each other, laughing over dripped cheese and toast crumbs. Then we spent the rest of the night talking, sleeping, and exploring each other’s bodies.
