Page 35 of Burning Rivalry

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

Was she? From where I was standing, she looked vulnerable. Fragile. Pained. “Do yourself a favor and say yes,” I urged softly, letting her draw me in whether or not she meant to. The fact that she leaned in, straining upward, told me she was with me. Wanting, craving.

“This isn’t fair.” I sensed the indecision she wrestled with and wished she would stop wrestling already. Didn’t she see it wasn’t worth it? There was no point.

“What isn’t fair?” I asked, allowing my nose to touch her hair so I could inhale the sweet vanilla aroma like a dessert I longed to take a bite of.

“This doesn’t mean things are any different,” she insisted, even as she closed her eyes and swayed into me. “They can’t be. Please, I know what we’ve already done, but⁠—”

“Listen to me.” I couldn’t wait through another second of her denying herself what she wanted most. A slight brush of my lips against hers left me shuddering as every last ounce of my control drained away. “I know what you’re afraid of, and I understand. I’m telling you that you don’t have to be afraid.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She parted her lips, her tongue sliding out to touch mine before our mouths met, and I wrapped an arm around her to crush her against me.

“Come home with me,” I whispered between kisses, going in for one taste after another. I couldn’t get enough. “Let me make this up to you, no strings attached. But I cannot pretend another minute I don’t want you. It seems like that’s all I can do anymore.” The words came straight from my core and my cock, rigid, straining. Every soft, helpless sigh that came from her made me more determined.

“Okay,” she eventually sighed. “I think I’d like to be taken care of…”

“But not just by anyone?” I questioned, finding the will to pull away from her. For some reason, I needed to know this meant more to her than just fucking.

Her teeth grazed her lower lip as she hesitated with a response. “No. Not just anyone.”

14

CLAUDIA

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” Sebastian stepped back after unlocking his front door, allowing me to walk inside and look at the beautiful two-story, Mediterranean-style home he so jokingly downplayed.

I immediately looked past the wide, airy foyer, searching for one room in particular. “What’s the kitchen like?” I asked, almost champing at the bit to look at it.

“I knew you would ask.” With an arm around my waist, he led me past the stairs, down a wide hall to what appeared to be a study and a living room positioned across from each other, and then the hall opened onto a large, sparkling kitchen.

“Wow.” Envy swelled in my chest as I admired the expensive La Cornue stove, the gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from a rack over a wide, marble-topped island. The dual ovens and pizza oven could be used both from inside the kitchen and the outdoor kitchen, which sat on the other side of a pair of French doors. I could imagine him out there, entertaining guests, being the caring host he always was. I had come to understand that was one of his gifts.

“What do you think?” he asked, and the earnestness in the question was touching.

“It’s gorgeous. What I couldn’t accomplish in a room like this.” It made my pitiful little kitchen apartment look like a joke. I really needed to move into a bigger place so I could practice at home.

“I hoped you would think so.” He slid out of his suit jacket and draped it over his arm before looking me up and down. “What do you need? How can I help you?”

The insistence in his question warmed my heart and made me glad I accepted his invitation. “Really. My hand is not all that bad.” I was lying—it still hurt like hell, making even the slightest movement send bolts of agony through my arm. Why did I want to make him feel better? Probably because he’d been so stricken when I got hurt.

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to tape your mouth shut.”

“You have to be able to guess how many times I’ve burned myself. Look at your hands,” I pointed out, eyeing a few faded scars still visible there. “You’ve spent enough time in kitchens to know.”

“You are my pastry chef, and as you know, we are now short a staff member. I don’t want you using this hand tonight, and considering you’re right-handed…” His arched expression brought to mind a prosecutor who just finished making his closing argument.

“Exactly what do you think you’re going to do for me?” Like I needed to ask. Like I didn’t know long before his eyes took on a wicked gleam, turning them from gray to shining steel.

“For starters?” He looked me up and down and made a disapproving face. “You need to wash up after the kind of busy night we had.”

A ripple of anticipation zigzagged through me, making me forget my hand for a second. It might as well have not been attached to my body, thanks to how he looked at me with so much promise in those gray depths.

“And I guess that means you’re going to help me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it. I think you need a bath,” he decided. “That way, you can keep your hand dry.”

I had to be imagining this, right? Sebastian Kennedy giving me a bath? Curiosity convinced me to follow him, if nothing else, trailing behind as he led the way up the winding staircase. It was a beautiful house but somehow less lavish than I’d expected. Then again, he did live alone. “You should have your family dinners here,” I mused. “Put that beautiful kitchen to use.”