“Under my specifications?”
“Yes.”
“What time should I be there?”
Chapter 14
Jayden picked up a bottle of the same wine Emma had brought to his house the night before. There was still half a bottle at his house, but bringing that would be tacky.
He almost grabbed his six-pack, too. Then didn’t.
Freshly showered and in blue sho
rts and a white polo shirt, with a pair of tennis shoes, he showed up at her door exactly on time. Six o’clock, just like she’d said.
Figured them for a nice dinner and bed by a little after seven. He wanted to take things nice and slow. Maybe snack in between sex sessions. She had a pool, he’d noticed the night before, and he had some ideas there, too. One thing he’d discovered about Emma Martin last night was that she’d walk on the wild side with him.
At least a little bit.
The thought had tantalized him on and off all day. At the most inappropriate times. It hadn’t interfered with his work, though. If that happened, this was done.
When he first walked into her home, he was certain something was wrong. She’d pulled open the door but left it hanging there, telling him to come on in, and all he saw was her back.
The place was darker than his own. Far darker than it had been when he’d left that morning. Every curtain and blind in the place was drawn.
He had kind of an emotional reaction to that. Moved past it.
She was at the stove, stirring something in one pan while another large skillet held about twelve slices of tenderloin. Had she invited others over?
He’d only brought one bottle of wine.
And conversation for an intimate twosome.
“That smells good,” he told her, refraining from a kiss on the back of her neck, but just barely. Her hair looked like she’d tried to contain it with a band, but a lot had sprung free. Her tight skirt was short, black, made out what looked like T-shirt material.
He reached out and touched her backside because...he just did.
She continued to cook. Her arms, slender and busy, lifted out over the pans in front of her. Pressing himself against her, he slid his hands around the white cotton hugging her torso to cup her breasts.
Her spoon slipped, but she recovered. Stirred.
“This has to reduce to half a cup in eleven minutes,” she said. Her nipples hardened beneath his fingers.
“How long has it been?” he asked, watching her cook from over her shoulder as he continued to gently tease her body.
“About nine.”
He had two minutes to play.
“The pork is four minutes on each side. We’re into two on the second side.”
Timed perfectly. He wasn’t surprised.
“It smells wonderful.” His nose was just above the mass of blond curls.
“Yes. Well, if you want to eat food, you better back away. Another second or two of that and the pork can burn.”
He was glad to hear it.