How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(50)
“I need an extra pair of hands,” was all he said before he dragged me into the kitchen.
There was a cut of beef roasting in the oven, and gravy simmering in a pot on the stove.
“So, the perfumer has turned his hand to cooking,” I commented.
He gave me an indulgent smile as he came and gripped my shoulders. His hands were firm, their heat sinking into my skin and warming my insides. He set me in front of a pile of potatoes and handed me a knife. When he stood behind me, I felt his chest press into my shoulders. He lowered his mouth to my ear and instructed. “Peel these.”
He might as well have said, “Take off your clothes,” for the way his words simmered through me, making every hair on my body stand on end.
I nodded and quietly set to work, still thinking about what Yvonne said. I wondered and I hoped. Dylan moved about the kitchen with effortless flow. You’d swear he’d been cooking all his life. But I guess in a way he had been. Designing perfumes was exactly like creating a recipe. You needed to find just the right ingredients. Figure out the exact method of combining them to achieve the desired result.
“Seems like you’re not too bad a chef,” I said, halfway through my peeling.
Dylan stood by the stove, alternating between stirring the gravy and checking on the roast beef. I admired the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms.
“Have you forgotten the bruschetta I made you?”
“Right, yes, the best bruschetta in all of New York.”
He smirked. “Not quite, but it’s definitely up there.”
I gave a soft laugh. “And what are we having for dessert?”
“Ah, now that’s a surprise.”
I carried the peelings to discard in the bin, while Dylan grabbed the potatoes and washed them under the tap, then threw them in a pot of boiling water. “The key to great mash is to use butter and milk. I also like to toss in a small teaspoon of wholegrain mustard.”
“Interesting choice,” I murmured just as his hand slid gently along the back of my neck. He swept my hair over one shoulder and lowered his mouth to my nape. I gasped at the contact of his soft lips on my skin, gripping the edge of the countertop.
“I’ve been dying to do that since you arrived,” he whispered, then dragged his mouth across to my earlobe. I stifled the urge to moan, every part of me on a knife’s edge already.
“Erhmmm,” I murmured back, incoherent. It was so hard to concentrate on words with his lips caressing, teeth nipping.
His hand moved to circle my waist. I closed my eyes and savoured his heat. He rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my middle. I turned my face into his and nuzzled his chin.
His mouth fell open and his breath hit my skin. It was way too hot in here and it wasn’t even from the oven. Dylan held me close and neither of us moved. We stayed like that for a long while, until the potatoes started to boil over. Dylan hurried to lower the heat, while I walked to the other side of the kitchen and stared out the window.
Dylan came and stood next to me, not speaking. The windowpane was frosted on the outside from the winter chill. Our shoulders brushed when he reached down and took my hand. And then, as if by some miracle, it started to snow.
We watched the falling white flecks for a minute before an exclamation of excitement rang out from the living room. Dylan smiled down at me.
“It’s snowing!” Conor announced when he burst into the kitchen. “Come on, you two. We’re all going outside.”
“Wait and see if it sticks first,” Dylan said.
“No way. I’m going out,” Conor argued before hurrying back into the living room.
I chuckled. “He really is a big kid this time of year.”
“The holiday season does something funny to his brain,” Dylan agreed.
In the end, the snow became so heavy that we all couldn’t resist going outside. I wrapped up well and what was supposed to be a pleasant wander around the neighbourhood turned into a full-on snowball fight. It was Yvonne, Bethany and me against Dylan and Conor. Girls against boys. The ‘grown-ups’ were wise enough to sit it out.
I wasn’t sure who won in the end, but I had snow stuck in places it had no business being stuck, courtesy of Dylan shoving snow down the back of my coat. I rewarded him by smashing some against his cheek and he gasped at the cold.
When we went inside, I savoured the warmth of the central heating and changed into some comfy leggings and a hoodie. I knew it wasn’t exactly dinner attire, but I decided to choose comfort over fashion.
As expected, Dylan’s food was delicious, and dessert turned out to be sherry trifle. I was pretty sure it came from a packet, since I couldn’t fathom how he would have time to prepare everything from scratch.
After dinner we all gathered in the living room to watch a movie. Conor delegated himself to decide what we watched, and I couldn’t help smiling when he announced his choice was When Harry Met Sally.
He glanced briefly at Yvonne, who appeared touched by the gesture, her cheeks flushed. I was pretty sure she hadn’t watched the movie in years. I guess she didn’t have to anymore. She was living the life she aspired to, but she didn’t have anyone to share it with.
Sure, she had me, but a niece wasn’t the same as a lover, someone you could share everything with.
Once the lights were dimmed, Dylan slid in next to me on the couch. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. I couldn’t help resting my head on his shoulder as I settled into the movie. At one point, he threw his arm around me and pulled me closer so that the side of my body was flush with his. I was relaxed and peaceful, and I could’ve fallen asleep right there if it weren’t for how his fingers stroked my hip.