Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,34

him.

Even now, even knowing it was Simon’s place and being locked in a kitchen with him wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world—he felt that small rush of fear at the dark shadows and unlit, empty pastry windows.

The kitchen door swung open after a minute, and Simon popped his head out, grinning widely against the backlight of where he was baking. ‘Lock the door?’

Rocco nodded, giving him a thumb’s up before turning to do just that. He felt the heavy click of the deadbolt under his fingers, and the fear turned into something else. His mouth watered, his cock plumping behind the zipper of his jeans. He dragged a hand through his styled hair, then grimaced and tried to set it straight before gathering his courage and pushing through the swinging doors.

Rocco had worked in a kitchen once. His mom knew a restaurant owner willing to take a chance on a Deaf kid who hated voicing. He didn’t do much beyond bussing tables and washing dishes, and it wasn’t easy. The kitchen was chaotic and loud—the sounds that got through his hearing aids were piercing and unkind to his sensitive ear drums. But he loved that he was doing something on his own, earning his money, proving to himself he was capable—even if it was just cleaning up the messes of the LA middle class.

This kitchen was nothing like that. It was tidy to the point of pristine apart from a long wooden baking table that was covered in flour. Simon was nowhere to be found, but the evidence of his recent work was all over. There were trays stuck inside a tall rack that were filled with cookies and unbaked bread dough, and an industrial mixer was whirring and kneading a massive lump of what he assumed would probably be bread.

He felt a faint vibration under his feet, and he saw Simon coming out through a side door that he realized probably went up to his apartment. He wasn’t covered in flour anymore, and he looked nice in jeans and a button-up. His hair looked damp, curls in ringlets that just barely touched his forehead, and there was a faint dusting of color to the apples of his cheeks.

‘What are you baking?’ Rocco asked, pointing at the mixer.

‘Challah. I like to make extra because it sells well Friday afternoons before I close.’

Rocco raised an eyebrow. ‘Is there something special about Friday afternoons?’

Simon shrugged. ‘It’s for—” Rocco didn’t recognize the sign, and Simon blushed furiously as he spelled it out. ‘Shabbat. Sabbath,’ he clarified when it still didn’t make sense.

Rocco took four steps closer, hands fighting to reach for him, wanting to kiss the shy smile off his face. ‘I didn’t know those words.’

‘I didn’t know I’d ever be able to teach you ASL.’

Rocco laughed. ‘Living language, always learning.’ He finally gave into his urge—just a little, and brushed the back of his knuckles over Simon’s heated cheek. Rocco felt the way Simon’s entire body shuddered, the way he leaned into it like he was starving for touch. ‘Do we need to wait until it’s done? I want to take you to dinner.’

Simon dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. ‘No. I just need to wait until my timer goes off. I’ll put it in the fridge after.’

Rocco nodded, and wondered if maybe he could convince Simon to kiss him more while they waited. If Simon came again, they weren’t in the ideal place to get spunk everywhere, but at least they were close to home. He stepped a little closer, saw the way Simon responded, saw the way his cock began to bulge.

Rocco’s hand had just started to reach out when Simon jolted, and it took him a second to realize something made noise. The buzzer. Simon ducked his head and moved around him to tip the massive bowl on the table. With quick, proficient movements with a large cutter, Simon separated the dough, then slapped them all on to baking sheets and added them to the rack.

He moved precisely, like it was in his blood, but Rocco could see the discontent in his eyes as he pushed the rack into a massive fridge and slammed the door. He ached to make Simon feel better, to take some of the burden away. He liked watching Simon in this place—in this kitchen—but he hated that it seemed to suck the life out of him.

‘Where are we going?’ Simon asked after he swiped his hands on