Feeling the Heat

by Jill Haven

  “Absolutely. Grab your shit and get out.”

  He smiled. “Well, you certainly sound better.”

  “You know it.” And I totally felt better, but my mind was racing with thoughts of work and Ewin.

  I wanted to get back to STK Storm. I needed to cook. But how could I face my boss? Shit. I scrubbed at my face with my palms.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Doubt crept into Brody’s tone. “I mean, I can stay and make you some more soup, or something?”

  I flung my pillow in his general direction. “Go and deflea a cat, dude.”

  He tossed my pillow back on the end of my bed. “Give me a call if you need anything.”

  I stood up. “I can see I’m going to have to throw you out the old-fashioned way.” My friends had lives of their own. Brody didn’t need to spend his time as my personal nursemaid.

  I grabbed his arm and towed him to the dor. As soon as he left, I’d take a shower and try to rediscover my dignity. A heat. I was like a pubescent boy. The temperature in my cheeks had nothing to do with hormonal desire, and I rubbed the back of my neck as I opened my front door.

  “Thanks, man.” I stuck my hand out, but he pulled me into a hug, slapping my back.

  “Any time, August. I got your back anytime you need me.”

  “August?” I pulled away from Brody at the familiar voice. It oozed over me, warming any parts my embarrassment hadn’t touched.

  “Ewin?” He stood on my stoop.

  “I’ve been worried.” His glanced up and down my body before brushing past Brody to stand directly in front of me.

  Then his hands were on my face, cupping my cheeks, and my knees buckled as his familiar scent surrounded me, taking control of every one of my body’s responses.

  “I…I’m doing better. Brody was just leaving.”

  He behaved as if he hadn’t heard me, his searching gaze locked to mine. “You look pale, August. How about you go and sit down—better, tuck yourself into bed—and I’ll make you some soup?” He twitched his head in the direction of a bag he’d left outside. “Chicken noodle? I brought the ingredients for my mom’s recipe.”

  I looked back at him. My mouth might even have hung open a little, but I snapped it closed. Then I glanced at Brody, who grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before he walked out the door.

  “Right.” Ewin popped open the top button of his collar and rolled his sleeves up his forearms before looking at me. “Which way to the kitchen?”

  “I…uh…I.” I pointed the way then remembered Brody was the last one in there, and I didn’t know the state of my own kitchen. “Oh, wait. I don’t know how clean it is.”

  Ewin laughed. “No worries. I know how to clean a kitchen.”

  I started to follow him, but he turned around, his brown eyes warm and serious. “Go to bed, please, or go take a shower or whatever you need to feel better.”

  “I was going to watch…?” Between cleaning up around him, sure, I would have watched.

  He waved me away. “Genius needs space, August. Now, go.”

  I bristled a little under his instruction. Had he forgotten how he had spoken to me and what happened the last time we were together? Where did he get off ordering me around? But I still felt too wiped out to bother arguing and I still remembered exactly what his tongue tasted like…so I swallowed my fake protests about not wanting him near me—God, I wanted him near me. In me. All the same thing—and turned to do as he asked.

  As I stepped into my bathroom and turned on the shower—I had no desire to be sick and stinky in front of Ewin—the air around me crackled with the knowledge that Ewin Storm was in my kitchen. Soon, my apartment filled with the aromas of herbs and garlic, with the warm base notes of Ewin’s spice and honey, and I drew in a deep breath of scented shower steam, allowing his presence to relax as well as energize me.

  When I was done, I used the last of my energy reserves to throw fresh sheets on my bed before crawling back in and arranging new blankets just as I wanted them as I relaxed into the solid reassurance of Ewin’s presence in my home.

  “August?” A voice cut across my thoughts, and I shifted, opening my eyes.

  Ewin stood by my bed, holding a tray decorated with a linen napkin and a small vase with a tiny purple flower and a sprig of… “Is that moss?”

  His gaze darted away, and he cleared his throat. “Your soup’s ready.”

  As soon as I’d struggled into a sitting position, he placed the tray on my lap and arranged my pillows behind me to offer me more support.

  “I can come to the table, you know.” I smiled at his earnest expression.

  “You’re sick. Please eat the soup.” He fidgeted at the side of my bed, occasionally smoothing my comforter or twisting his fingers together.

  “The tables have turned…” I murmured.

  “What?” His eyes widened.

  “I get to taste something you’ve made and tell you what I think about it.”

  His laugh sounded forced as I dipped my spoon into the rich-looking soup. The first bite was heaven, and I closed my eyes.

  Ewin made a strangled noise as I moaned softly in my throat.

  “It’s so good,” I murmured, immediately taking my second mouthful.

  Disappointment washed through me when my spoon eventually clinked against my empty bowl, but I set my tray to one side and patted the space by my legs, indicating Ewin should sit.

  “So, do you always show up to the houses of your sick employees to make them soup?”

  He ran a finger around the edge of his collar, loosening it, as if the room had suddenly grown too hot, but I didn’t take my gaze from him and watched his cheeks as they stained red underneath his close-trimmed beard.

  Taking pity on him, and not really wanting to hear the answer in case it led to too many questions about my heat cycle, I changed the subject. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be back as soon as I can to catch up on the things I’ve missed.”

  The first easy smile of the morning appeared on his face. “I don’t have any worries at all about that. You’re the most dedicated person in that kitchen.” He paused. “I’m not here to check up on you. I’m here because I was genuinely worried about how you are. I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I actually gave everyone else the day off to free up my time.”

  “You…you…?” There were no words. His kitchen and brand were everything to Ewin. “But why were you so worried?”

  For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. My apartment made familiar creaks and the ticking noises of pipes around us, but Ewin just watched me until spice and honey flooded my room and senses.

  Then he moved closer, took my cheeks between his palms and spoke. “I couldn’t stay away.” His voice came out gruff, raw. “You do something to me. I feel you in my chest like my own heartbeat. I couldn’t just go to work and pretend to have a normal day while I didn’t know how you were.”

  Confusion flared through my body, and adrenaline began a steady buzz in my head. “But I thought you… I mean we decided… You said…”

  Before I could finish my thought, Ewin groaned, and his lips pressed against mine.

  12

  Ewin

  August’s scent of wild moss and woodland undergrowth swirled around me, and I parted my lips to draw it deeper. I pressed my mouth harder against his, trying to show him how I felt…how I really felt, not what I’d said I felt.

  Then I felt his hands against my chest as he shoved me away before he climbed from the bed, and stood against the wall of his bedroom, his eyes glistening with tears.

  I reached for him and opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off.

  “No. You need to leave.” His voice was raw and angry. “You’re an asshole, Ewin. An asshole. Why did you come here? Just to play with my feelings again?” He dashed the heel of his palm across his eyes, and my chest became a void.

  Harland had been right. I’d left it too late. It had taken me too long and August didn’t want me. He strode
to his closet and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over his head.

  “You can’t keep doing this. You say you don’t want me, but you kiss me. You know how I feel.” He bit his lip before meeting my gaze. “And I can’t play this game because it hurts too much.” A tear escaped the corner of his eye and ran down the inside of his nose.

  “August.” His name was a plea as it left my lips. I patted his bed. “Sit with me…please?”

  He didn’t move, just glanced at the door as if assessing an escape.

  “Please?” I repeated, ready to get down on my knees if that was what it took. I could barely draw breath, and my heart wouldn’t survive if August left me sitting on his bed in his apartment.

  “Please,” I whispered again.

  His eyes softened, the blue pools becoming beautiful lagoons, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he sat on the bed. The short distance between us stretched to infinity but at least he hadn’t left.

  I drew a deep breath then another to clear my head. “Workplace relationships don’t work.”

  The sheets rustled as he drew farther away, but I continued.

  “I know because I’ve had one before.”

  His head snapped up, his gaze accusing. “You’ve what? But you said no relationships in your kitchen.”

  I spread my hands. “Because of mine, August. Ted was my sous chef in my very first restaurant. We were both young and a little bit wild but work and homelife blended into one big blur of passion for food and emotion for each other, and the restaurant suffered for it. In fact, it nearly didn’t make it. I had to claw that first year back from the brink.” My insides chilled as I remembered those desperate months where I nearly lost everything. “I can still feel it now,” I whispered. “I came so close to having nothing.”

  I shook my head and focused on August again. “I didn’t expect you. When I came home, I didn’t expect a force like you.”

  August shook his head. “I didn’t mean to…”

  But I shushed him. I needed to get these words out. It hurt too much to keep them bottled up inside. “I am attracted to you on every level,” I told him, my words and tone matter of fact so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding.

  He gasped, the intake of breath an almost silent disturbance in the quiet of his room.

  “But my feelings scare me.”

  “You’re scared?”

  My lips stretched into a thin smile. “So scared,” I admitted. “I’m scared to screw up STK Storm in Cedar Falls—I can’t have another restaurant almost fail—and I’m scared to screw up your career.” I was scared loving August might break my heart. “But these are my hang-ups. I know they are. I just…I just don’t think I can keep home and work separate enough.” I looked at August, at his beautiful full lips. “Not when I want to kiss you every time I see you.”

  August’s mouth parted and his breathing increased until his sharp little pants filled the room, loud in my ears. Sweet Jesus, I wanted him. I curled my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out and pressing him down to his bed while I took him. I wanted to taste his lips, his skin, his cock. My dick twitched as a flush crept across his cheeks.

  “And…and…” I almost couldn’t say my last fear, but August looked at me expectantly. “I’m too old for you.” I whispered the last part, afraid to hear the words out loud.

  Almost in slow motion, he leaned toward me, and my breath caught as he touched his lips to mine, softly, and almost as if he didn’t dare to, almost as if he thought I might reject him when it took all my strength not to wind my arms around him and pull him against me.

  He drew away slightly, and the loss of his mouth was torture. “Thank you for being honest about your feelings,” he said.

  I shrugged, the casual movement giving no clue to the jumbled feelings inside me. “I didn’t really have a choice,” I spoke stiffly as I held myself in check. “I need you to understand how I feel.”

  He dropped his head and nuzzled my neck, his lips touching against me, so soft and warm. “Do you mean you’re admitting you want me, despite being my boss, despite being old and decrepit?”

  I groaned at his casual use of the word decrepit, the noise riding from deep in my chest, but let my head fall to one side to give August better access. He trailed slow, deliberate kisses up my neck to the side of my jaw, setting my skin on fire.

  My eyes fluttered closed as I waited for him to reach my mouth, but he stopped tantalizingly close, and his breath fluttered against me as he whispered, “You’re definitely not too old. You’re just right. Where do we go from here?”

  I forced myself to think with my brain as my cock twitched, already needy for attention. As I opened my eyes to give the beautiful man in front of me my full attention, I reached to touch his face again, cupping his cheeks, and my stomach flipped at the perfect fit my hands made over his skin.

  “One day at a time?”

  He lowered his gaze, as if disappointed, and anxiety beat fluttery wings in my rib cage.

  “I mean, I’ll never let my feelings for you factor into our job. I won’t give you preferential treatment, so you don’t need to worry about that—even though I know you do.”

  He flashed me a small smile of acknowledgment. “And I promise not to feel entitled to special treatment.” He paused. “Or, if I do feel entitled to it, I’ll check myself for sure…Chef.”

  “Two lives?” I asked. “Home and work?”

  He nodded. “Two lives.”

  “And the age thing?” I had to ask, even though I didn’t really want to know.

  August shrugged, his smile sly. “I promise not to order any coffins.”

  I laughed, surprise forcing the sound from my mouth. “Hey… Even I know I’m not that old.”

  “Then stop stressing about it and focus on us.” His maturity seemed to outweigh mine, and gratitude for the man he’d become filled my heart.

  “Can we seal it with a kiss?” Hesitancy still stayed my movements. I didn’t want to scare him off by coming on too strong or racing in too hot.

  But he grinned and placed his lips to the side of my jaw before drawing them across to my mouth. “Have fun, take care, and put your heart into it,” he whispered.

  The gentle heat of his lips fueled the fire inside me, and I pressed my hands back against his cheeks, before tangling my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as I sucked on his lower lip.

  He laughed and pulled away, before scooting closer on the bed. He found the hem of my shirt and his fingers skimmed my waist. I tensed then flicked my tongue against his mouth, coaxing his lips to open so I could taste his tongue again. My fantasies were nothing compared to this. The rain-soaked smell of moss and fresh greenery scented the air all around me, and I breathed him in.

  “Lie down,” he whispered, his hand still exploring the skin at the waistband of my pants, and I shuffled backward, careful not to break contact.

  As my head found a pillow, I softened our kiss, lazy with my tongue, gentle against his lips. He was mine now, and I could take my time. I raised my hand and began to open my buttons, dragging my fingertips across my skin with each movement, thinking of August and his touches, and the way I’d touched myself the night I went home and stroked my cock with August on my mind.

  Again, my cock was hard, straining to fill him, as if I’d never get enough of him, never be free from having him on my mind. “I jerked off thinking about you the other night,” I ground out as I finished opening my shirt and pushed my hands under his sweatshirt, holding back a gasp at his soft, warm skin and gently muscled torso.

  “You did?” August grinned. “You naughty boy.” Then he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as his hips nudged forward. “I wish I’d been there.”

  I huffed in surprise, and pushed my shirt open, baring my chest to him. He laid a long lick up my breastbone, skittering heat across my skin, and my nipples tightened before he brought his mouth to one, sucking the tiny bud into his mouth and
swirling his tongue over it. I pushed his head closer before tugging him back level with me and pressing my mouth to his again, our lips sliding together, our tongues tasting, and our rapid breathing filled my ears. I pushed my hands back until August’s top and he angled away before gripping the fraying hem and lifting it above head, sweeping that and his T-shirt off in one smooth motion.

  My throat dried as I saw his chest for the first time. His pale skin pebbled with gooseflesh as the air hit it, and I smoothed my palms over him to bring back some warmth. Soft skin covered his slight build, firm muscles visible across his chest and abdomen. I stroked my fingertips along their lines of definition, and he shivered.

  “That tickles.” His voice wobbled and I tore my attention from his body, dragging my gaze past the lips I wanted to kiss, before I focused on his eyes. “I want you,” I whispered.

  I pushed my palms to his back, swooping them down over the curve of his spine and the dip of his waist before pushing them into his pants and settling them over his rounded ass.

  As he swallowed a sound, desire rose though me and I pressed my mouth to his shoulder, nipping him gently with my teeth. I pushed his ass toward me, pressing his body against mine.

  “I want you, and I won’t stop this time,” I reassured him.

  “Ewin.” My name was a strangled cry from his mouth, and his eyes closed, his face a smooth picture of bliss as a grin crept up his cheeks.

  He worked his hand between us, seeking my cock as it jutted toward him, pressing painfully at the seam of my jeans.

  “I want to touch you,” he murmured.

  “Please.” I nudged toward him, as I pressed against his ass cheeks again, digging my fingers into the muscles there. I groaned. “You feel so good. Take your pants off.”

  He took his hands from me, and I grumbled but he smiled. “Your wish is my command.” He slipped his fingers into his elastic waistband and wriggled out of his pajama bottoms, then drew a blanket from the end of his bed over us. “Welcome to my nest.”