He stepped out of the room before she could formulate a response.
What had just happened? He ran off to answer his phone in the middle of a kiss, one that had curled her toes and made the hairs on her arms rise.
Her eyes darted around the kitchen until they lit on the white box on the counter and she hurried over to it. Opening it, she moaned at the sight of the deep-fried beignets. Picking up two, she stuffed both in her mouth, all the while thinking that eating beignets was not the only thing she wanted to do with her mouth.
CHAPTER 9
Drake leaned against a wall in Love’s living room. He’d been off the phone for five minutes, but still wasn’t able to go back to her in the kitchen. Because he’d kissed her. Twice. And he’d wanted to go in for thirds and more, but his phone had been his saving grace.
It wasn’t anybody important, just another resident with a question on one of the patients he’d doctored that day. But it was a welcomed interruption because things were on the verge of going way left.
Drake leaned against the couch. El’s words rang in his ears. His uncle-brother had surmised that sex with love had to mean something. And he was right.
He’d spent the last several nights turning every moment over in his mind, trying to find the difference. There was no clarity, no epiphany that would explain how they could go from being best friends to married within the span of twelve hours.
They’d slept in many a bed together. He’d seen her in her underwear more than a few times, had knocked back shots several nights, and still…no sex. Nothing. Now, he couldn’t stop imagining it. He remembered how she’d looked beneath him, how her bare skin had felt beneath his hands.
He was tempted to leave right then and there, but he wouldn’t do that to her. Groaning, Drake walked over to the wet bar on the other side of the living room and poured a healthy glass of cognac.
If he went back into the kitchen, looked at her standing there in those cute little shorts, with that damn bun in her hair, he was liable to kiss her again—or more. Everything had changed. She’d told him they needed to move past it, but could they? He doubted it, since he couldn’t stop wanting her.
Yet even as he warred with himself over his next steps, he knew he couldn’t run from it. With other women, if things got too hot, he’d walk away. Simple and painless. Love wasn’t other women, and walking away wasn’t an option. She was his closest friend, the best woman he knew, and now she was his wife.
Drake finished the contents of his glass in one gulp and walked into the kitchen. Love was standing at the island, her head down. Had he hurt her by walking away in the middle of that kiss? It wasn’t his greatest moment, but that phone call had offered a reprieve, given him a chance to think before he made another impulsive decision.
“Love, I’m sorry.”
The fact that she didn’t respond was odd. If he’d pissed her off, she’d lash out. If he’d hurt her, she’d cry. But her lack of response was not like her. He stepped closer, caught a glimpse of the open box in front of her.
“Love?”
Finally, he reached her and turned her around to face him. His friend, his wife, was standing before him covered in confectioner’s sugar. Her cheeks were stuffed with beignets and the box was…empty?
“You ate all of the beignets? I bought half a dozen.”
A burst of powdered sugar flew into his face when she opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled almost incoherently.
He picked up a napkin and wiped his face. “I can’t believe it.” Her lips and chin were white with powder. He poked one of her cheeks, and another puff of sugar flew out. “You’re going to pay for that in the morning, ya know?”
She nodded, chewing rapidly. He poured her a glass of wine and pushed it toward her. Once she’d successfully swallowed the beignets, she gulped down the entire glassful.
“Don’t laugh.”
He covered his mouth. “I’m not laughing. I’m shocked.”
“I couldn’t resist.” She grabbed a towel and scrubbed her mouth with it until her lips were red.
He gripped her wrist. “Stop.”
“I’m so embarrassed.” She tucked a stand of loose hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t stop eating them.”
“You have some…” Reaching out, he wiped sugar from the side of her mouth.
She touched where his finger had been. “I must look a mess.”
“Not even a little bit.”
Her eyes softened, propelling him forward until they were almost touching. He framed her face with his palms, brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. Her sharp intake of breath spurred him on. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her nose with his.