“The chef made it, but it’s my mother’s recipe. Does that count?”
“I’ll take it.” Her hip bumped mine, and she smiled.
We worked in harmony in that kitchen, like we were somehow made to be in it together. When we sat down to eat, I glanced at her. “If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended.”
She glared. “I’ll be offended if I don’t like this. You’re crazy.”
With that, she dug in.
I waited for her moan but it was complete silence as she chewed with her eyes closed.
Maybe I’d lost my touch.
Then her head hit the table. “No. I can’t stand it. I’m dead.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you now. I can’t believe I get this cooking for six months. Oh my God.”
She didn’t even glance up as she moaned a long list of different deities.
Fuck, I needed an outlet. The woman’s voice was sex on a stick to begin with, and now I needed reminding of just how good she sounded with her mouth around my dick.
“Morina, don’t be ridiculous,” I ground out. “Eat your food.”
She turned her head on the table and opened one eye. “I’m not being ridiculous, Bastian. How can you eat anything but this all day long?”
“I like variety.” I knew my cooking was as good as my mother’s. She would spend hours in the kitchen and had recipes from Italy that no one else would be able to match. We put love into our food and that took pride, patience, and a learned touch.
“What will I do when our six months is up?”
The pain in her voice and how she completely embraced the fact she’d be sad when we left one another had me agreeing to something I never thought I would. “I can teach you, love.”
She sat up. “Seriously?”
“Sure.” I pointed a fork at her. “You can teach me to make a smoothie too, huh?”
That smile shot across her face and straight into my chest. I didn’t like the way I was starting to care for her or the way she smiled at me like I could do her no harm.
Our worlds were different. And you didn’t mix a man born in filth with a mermaid, not tainted yet by the pollution of my cities.
25
Morina
Bastian was talking to me over his food about the gala. Three days until then. More acting or faking. At this point, it was him faking and me getting completely and utterly confused.
And even so, I couldn’t seem to focus on his words.
The man made pasta.
With his big, bare hands. He’d smiled at me when I said I wanted to learn and he’d asked about the recipes for my smoothies.
Then his phone rang and he didn’t bother getting it. He silenced it instead, like I was more than his business.
I got up put the dishes in the dishwasher, but he followed and helped rinse them off before stacking them into the machine. His body was close when he asked if I wanted to watch a movie.
I pressed the dishwasher button and when I turned to look at him, his eyes were all ooey gooey chocolate colored and his lips begged for me to lean in.
I could have run down a list of reasons why I shouldn’t, but I didn’t think about the negatives or hesitate in life. I just went for it.
Quick decisions.
I took his lips in my mouth and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt.
Maybe I expected him to pick me up and lay me out on the counter and ravage me. I definitely expected him to at least wrap his arms around me.
He did neither.
After a moment of him letting me kiss him, I pulled back.
“You kissed me.” He said it almost like a question with a slight hitch in his voice. But somehow it was also a statement.
Normally, I didn’t turn red, my blush would be hard to see under my sun-kissed skin but I knew he could see it now. It rose from my chest to my cheeks, burning with embarrassment.
“I… I’m sorry. I just thought…”
He rubbed at his lips and his frown led me to my own conclusions.
I rushed out an explanation. “It’s just you’ve been here these past couple days. I mean, I went to a theme park with you. We kissed.”
He nodded. “We kissed for the cameras, Morina.”
“I know that was for show. But we slept on that stupid couch together and you…well, you know! I know it was because of me and being sexually frustrated and…oh, my God, I don’t know. The freaking pasta and there was something in the air.”
He tried to speak again but I was on a rant now. “I felt cooped up and then we surfed and, Bastian, you were decent at failing out on that board. And then I thought I wanted to tell you stuff about my family, and normally I would have just done it because we know I just do everything, but I didn’t. That’s a large sign something’s off for me.”
He stared at me. “So you kissed me?”
“It wasn’t a good idea!” I threw my hands out and beelined to the fridge and reached on top of it for my lighter. I needed a scent in the air to calm myself down or something. “But I’m just here and you’re here and I keep thinking, well, I can go to the food truck and work and get away from you, but if I go to the food truck, is a mobster going to come there and ransack it? And if I go surfing is someone going to drown me if you’re not there? I know that sounds ludicrous but, well, is it?”
He stared at me like he was waiting for me to work it all out for myself.
I leaned in and whispered, “Those stocks are worth a ton of money, Bastian. Millions.”
“Yes, Morina. How do you think your grandmother had the majority vote? With thousands of dollars’ worth?”
“Well, okay, in my defense, I didn’t think she had any vote until the day of the will hearing.” I wanted to smack him for being logical. “And then I guess I just didn’t put two and two together. I–”
“You avoided it because the idea scared you.”
“Don’t say that like it's what I do all the time. I do everything and anything. I go with the flow.”
“Until you’re scared of the flow.”
“I resent that statement because I’m doing this fake marriage stupid plan with you even though it scares the ever living hell out of me. My gut said no. I usually go with my gut. And can I just say, it hasn’t been a walk in the park, okay? I just…you were gone and I felt alone and now you’re here and it feels like you’re everywhere. You’re just everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You’re in my space with your food and your voice and your body everywhere and I had a very healthy sex life with Bradley and guys that were–”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” His jaw was granite, sharp edged and flexed. “I don’t need to know about your sexual history, Mo.” He sounded mad, and maybe even a little disgusted.
“Well, I’m just trying to explain. Normally, Bradley comes over or I go out. This is a tourist town, mostly. Men want a fling and I enjoy–”
“Stop.” It was yet another time I heard more emotion in his voice than his usual stoic persona. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and then rubbed his forehead. “Maybe you need an outlet.”