Finding Faith (19 page)

Damn, I got caught. I could feel heat run from my chest up to my cheeks. Wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand to make sure I didn’t have drool hanging down, I asked, “What you making?”

It was a feeble attempt to sound nonchalant, and I don’t think I was pulling it off too well because the boyish smile became a dangerously sexy one, sending quivers over my body.

“I love that,” he said with the panty soaking smile still on his face before turning back to check on the omelet. “I’m making you an omelet. I hope they’re still your favorite.”

I shuffled up behind him holding on to his flexed bicep for leverage to get a better look. As I peered over his shoulder to see the creation that made his forearms look illegal, I took in a deep breath intending to smell the omelet, getting hit with a nose full of John instead.

“Mmmm, that smells delicious,” I said, my voice coming out raspy. I inclined a smidgen closer to his thick neck than necessary. Fighting back the urge to plant kisses up and down the entire length, I backed off, my eyes closed of their own volition as I basked in the smell up close and personal.

I heard a throat clear in the back of my brain and that’s when I noticed my eyes were still closed. Inadvertently, I bent my head to the shirt I was draped in to keep the smell, as if opening my eyes would make me lose my first dose of lust. I took in another deep sniff before changing focus.

His eyes were alight with amusement. “So?”

“So what?” My head was busy swimming in a pool of John and I couldn’t think straight. The lust was spinning into desire.

“Does it smell right?”

“Oh, umm, let me take another whiff to make sure.” This time I made a conscious effort to smell the omelet, noting the hint of a spice I craved. “Is that cumin?”

He nodded with a goofy grin I found just as sexy as any of the other thousand smiles he used to seduce me with. Not fair.

“Yep, you still like it made with that don’t you?” he asked completely oblivious to my internal struggle.

Wow, he remembered. “Well, yeah. How did you remember that?”

Brad had to be reminded week after week while we were together. We’d only been split up for three months, but I bet he still wouldn’t have a clue.

“Faith, I remember everything about you. I only hope I can keep up with the things that have changed.”

A look of grief flashed across his brow, vanishing just as fast as it appeared. He slid my omelet onto a plate and set it at one of the seats before starting on his.

“Do you mind pouring the coffee?” he asked as he displayed his perfect broad back for me that led down to his narrow waist.

My fingers started to tingle with the urge to touch him and feel all the curves of his back. This can’t happen again, I scolded myself for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Obviously I wasn’t doing a good job of convincing myself.

To distract myself I turned toward the table while rubbing my hands down my shirt a few times, wanting the action to take care of my need to touch him. It wasn’t working so I kept doing it, each time I would rub harder wiggling them every now and then to wake them up. When I turned back around John was watching me.

“Where are the mugs?” I asked, playing off my actions.

His intense gaze locked on me while pointing at a cabinet to his right. “Up there,” he answered, tipping his head up slightly in the direction his finger was aimed, but his eyes never wavered off my body. By the sultry look he was giving, my guess would be he was undressing me as he spoke.

When I moved he went back to what he was doing, showing me that luscious back again. Son of a bitch!

It felt like the old days when he would show up at my house first thing in the morning. Absentmindedly my hand swept across his waist as I passed to get to the cabinet. I hadn’t noticed what I’d done until I felt his muscles tense underneath my fingers. Shit.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” I said, pulling my hand away like I got shocked.

I may not have meant to touch him but my fingers certainly did, and they felt so much better.

“Too bad,” he said, keeping his eyes on the pan, but they were laughing at me, I could see it.

The aroma of his omelet drifted to my nose, making my stomach grumble out loud. I clutched at my shirt and said, “I was thinking about when you used to show up at my house at the crack of dawn and do this for me. It feels so natural for us.”

I meant it.

“But I never got it with such a great show. Look what I missed all those times,” I said with a small smile, biting my lower lip to fight the urge to attack him. He looked so fine I wanted to eat him instead of the omelet.

“You didn’t miss anything. I didn’t fill out until a few years after you were gone. I had to find things to fill up my free time since you weren’t around, and working out was one of them,” he said.

“You know, on the days when you popped over to help me start my day, I always knew I’d have a good one because she would never bother me after you left. Maybe it was your eggs that got her in a good mood.”

Our eyes met and a grave expression crossed his face. Now that he knew everything I didn’t feel a need to hide, but maybe I shouldn’t be so open if it was going to make him feel lousy.

“I wish I’d known that. I would have made sure I was there every day at dawn. I would have camped out in your driveway for Christ’s sake.”

I wasn’t sure if it was because of our admissions the night before or our shared past but I never felt more at home with someone.

For all the times I’d spent the night over at Brad’s I never felt this comfortable. As for being cooked breakfast, yeah right. He expected me to do the cooking for him.

The thought of him seeing me in this T-shirt made me feel like a rebel. He would have never given me a T-shirt to wear. Not to mention the fact that if I dared wear only a shirt around he made sure to point out only trash did that. I only made that mistake once.

Brad was so selfish. He made sure I had my stuff if I planned to spend the night, and if didn’t I had to go home and get my overnight bag. God, forbid I keep things at his place.

“Brad would never let me wear this.” Ouch, why did I just say that out loud?

“He wouldn’t?” John’s green eyes narrowed before turning black.

“Nope, he thought it was trashy,” I said. I set the cups of coffee on the table, trying to act casual to cover up my big mouth, making sure not to make eye contact.

John stretched past me to put the other plate with his eggs at the open seat. His warm breath hit behind my ear, teasing me on how close he was. A few more deliberate steps from John closed our gap, increasing the tension swirling inside me. I could feel how hard he was, his stiff cock hitting against the top of my ass, his bare feet caging mine in between his stance.

In one fluid motion he spun me around, resting his forehead against mine, his chest heaving in unison with my heartbeat, our breath mingling as to become one. Wrapping strong hands around my small waist, he swayed back and forth with me in his embrace to the song “I Won’t Give Up” by Jason Mraz that was softly playing in the background. Our sexual tension melting away as he twirled me around the kitchen. My body molding perfectly with his each time he brought me back close to feel his heat. Tingles surged over my body where his hands touched. His mouth covered mine, his tongue slipping out taking a taste of my bottom lip, teasing me to open. With a nip where he’d licked, my mouth parted, allowing entrance for his tongue.

Sweeping along mine, twining together, a fire surged in my belly for this man who was showing me he never doubted our love, not for one minute of one day of one year, even while apart.

His soft, yet strong lips grazed my ear and in the husky voice that always made me slick, he whispered, “I think it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It took a second for my clouded head to figure out he was talking about my shirt. “Everything about you turns me on,” he said.

He ground into me, letting me feel his arousal before pulling back, placing a kiss on my forehead. He floated us across the room again before he continued, “It’s true you know.”

When he looked down at me his hooded eyes told me exactly what he wanted. I wanted it, too, I won’t lie. It felt right to be here with him now, and I wondered why I was denying it.

“What?” I asked, floating above the ground in his arms, not able to keep track of our conversation.

“This song.” He took me for a wide spin across his kitchen.

Somehow we ended up in the same spot we started. John continued to rock us cheek to cheek to the rhythm of the song that had finished long ago. When I leaned away our eyes locked, his grip became firm around my hips, telling me this was real and not some fantastic dream.

“Especially that hint of ass that peeks out when you reach for mugs,” he smirked, licking my bottom lip as he ran an index finger slowly across the crease of my ass, leaving a hot trail of desire from the inside of my thigh until it hit air in the dip of muscle on the outside of my leg, finishing with a rough squeeze of my hip, making a point to show his want for me. As if there was any doubt.

I was in a John induced coma. It was either caused by the shirt that freed his scent into the air around us every time I spun or from the bare-chested hotness himself that was doing the twirling. Most likely it was a combination of both. He was not a man that could be ignored.

Before my head cleared, he let me go and sat down.

I stood glued in place wishing for more, wanting to jump on his back like a horny little monkey. By the time my feet were able to move, he had already begun eating as if we hadn’t just had a moment that nearly shattered my resolve.

A moment of clarity and space from the mesmerizing smells told me that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I had to stay strong.

Since riding his cock was out, I had to go for the next best thing. “Do you have any Bailey’s for the coffee?”

I needed something with a kick if I was going to make it through this meal in one piece. His mouth full with the cold omelet, with a closed-mouth grin that took up his entire face, he gestured with one of those magic fingers to a cabinet next to the one with the cups. Of course, I would have to reach for it.

After pouring enough liquid courage into my cup, I sat down across from John feeling like the poster child for drool and dug into my food. If I kept my mouth busy chewing it didn’t have time to make saliva.

“Is it good?” John asked, sipping coffee while eyeing my mouth. He was making me a jumble of raw nerves.

At the rate I was shoveling in the eggs all I could say was “Mmmm, hmmm,” avoiding the green stare that could dissolve my bones into goo.

Before he spoke again between bites, I asked, “How did you end up here in Chicago?” I stabbed a piece of the omelet and crammed it in, keeping the lack of eye contact.

“Oh, yeah, I don’t think I ever did answer that did I? After you left me,” he saw my mouth open, about to protest, but he put his hand up stopping me. “I know you said you didn’t leave me, but that’s how I felt and it’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea that you didn’t. It’s a hard habit to break when you’ve thought that for as long as I have.”

After the explosion the night before I wasn’t so sure this was a conversation I wanted to have with him now, or ever. I was having trouble holding my fork because of the sweat that suddenly formed on my hands.

With another calm sip of coffee he continued. “Like I was saying, my parents died and I had nothing. No job, no focus. I assumed that’s why you left me.”

His eyes hardened into slits, daring me to argue about that comment. I kept my mouth shut, except I did want to point out to him what happens when you assume, but I bit my tongue figuring he wouldn’t appreciate me pointing it out.

“I partied for a while, but once Sarah became a wild child I woke up, realizing somebody had to be an adult and take care of her. Steve never changed. He always is in his own little utopia, so I got into the fire service. I tested everywhere, and was lucky enough to make it on here after spending a few years in a small town in Iowa,” he said with a proud smile as he leaned back in his chair.

I frowned to myself, wishing he hadn’t sat farther away from me.

So it was luck not me that he ended up here. Last night I was having a conniption because I thought he was going to say it was me, and now a small part of me was sad because it wasn’t.

“What about this place? You said your parents got it for you.”

“With the money I was left from their estate. Steve wanted to keep up the farm and I wanted out, so besides the money they left us, Steve bought me out of most of my part of the land. I built a house on a chunk of land I kept for when I go visit.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. I started to fidget with the food on my plate.

John saved me by changing the subject. “What are your plans for the day?”

He was completely relaxed, resting his arm across the back of his chair without a care in the world.

While I sat across from him I felt my body slowly turning to the goo I was trying so hard to avoid. His eyes hadn’t diverted their gaze from my mouth, starting to make me notice the tingle in my belly that he unknowingly initiated during the dance.