Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,57

hold still and not fidget while his smile slipped and his jaw slid open.

He blinked. And blinked again. Did I break him?

“Or maybe we can do it another night.”

As I turned to walk away, he grabbed my hand. “Come in. Are you hungry?”

I let him guide me down the short hall and through a very clean living room. There were no signs of moving boxes. He’d settled in quickly, but I guess that was normal for someone who traveled as much as he probably did. Though decorations were sparse, he had some unique and beautiful furnishings and décor. But I didn’t have time to soak it in before he pulled me into a well-lit kitchen.

Forcing myself to relax a little since it was obvious he wasn’t going to pounce on me like I imagined this happening, I said, “It smells delicious. What are you cooking?”

He dropped my hand and ambled over to the stove where he had a chopping board and some purple onions partially diced, the knife set aside. The thought of him doing something simple and domestic when I knocked on the door—rather than him ravishing some nameless woman in his bedroom—had me breathing easier.

“It’s called dabeli. One of my favorites.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder as he continued chopping. “Have a seat.”

He gestured toward the island where two barstools stood. Setting my handbag down on his kitchen table, I took a seat at the island behind him.

“What’s that there?” I asked, pointing to the mixing bowl next to a variety of ingredients.

“This is the dabeli masala and sweet chutney,” he said, setting the mixture aside as his nonstick pan heated. He poured some oil in the pan. “I’m making the stuffing now.”

He continued to add some mashed potatoes and diced onions to the sizzling pan, then the mixture from the bowl. His back was to me, which only drew my eyes to the broad expanse as his hands moved lithely, stirring the ingredients into the pan. I couldn’t help but watch his muscles flex and move under his T-shirt that stretched a little too tight. I’d only seen him in dress shirts before.

He removed the pan from the flame and transferred the mixture to a plate where he pressed it with the flat of a wooden spoon. Finally, he sprinkled it with coriander, coconut, and pomegranate.

“Here. Taste.” He turned with a small spoonful of the stuffing and held it up to my mouth, a smile ticking up on one side.

I let him feed it to me. He watched my mouth as I chewed. The flavor was delicious.

“And do you eat it just like that?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t come here solely for sex and this was perfectly normal.

“No. They go into the pavs.” He pointed to what looked like sweet rolls, cut down the middle. “I’ll make you a few right now if you want.”

This man had an unfairly sensual voice. Deep, dark, and rich. A timbre that normally rolled with sweet promises and soft seduction. But right now? It had morphed into some kind of entity all its own. A superpower he was using to lure me closer. The thing was, he didn’t have to seduce me. I was here of my own accord for just one thing. And even so, his voice, his beauty, his alluring mannerisms and yes, dammit, his irresistible charm, had me completely trapped. Entranced. Wanting.

I licked my lips but couldn’t seem to find any words.

“You are hungry, aren’t you, Isadora?”

Those dark eyes rolled with silver.

I nodded.

“For food?” he asked. “Or something else?”

“Something else. I already told you.”

And I wasn’t going to repeat myself because once was all I could bear.

He set the spoon aside without removing his gaze from mine, then planted his hands on the island countertop on either side of my hips, trapping me within his embrace.

“One night?” he asked, raising his brow in question.

“Not a whole night,” I clarified. “I have to be home by ten o’clock.”

His mouth—wow, he had lovely lips—quirked up on one side, finding this amusing for some reason.

“Then we better get started,” he whispered, leaning in.

He was going to kiss me. Of course, he was going to kiss me. What was I thinking? Then why was my heart trying to leap out of my chest at this sudden revelation?

I don’t know what I expected. Something tender? Or fierce and ravishing? I wasn’t sure. But what I didn’t expect was the unbelievably slow descent of his mouth, barely open as it swept