Page 84 of Knot Their Starlet

“Ah, I see how it is,” she giggles. “Well, I still think this is plenty impressive. No one’s ever cooked me dinner before.”

“Really?” I ask, my brows drawing down. I mean, considering the way her relationship with her ex-boyfriend ended—I can’t imagine he was a picture-perfect boyfriend while they were together—and he seems to be the only partner the internet knows about. “I mean, technically, we’re cooking dinner together, since you’re helping.”

“Well, then I’ve never cooked dinner with someone before,” she corrects with a soft smile.

The two of us perch on our barstools around the bubbling pot.

“The meat’s sliced super thin, so it cooks really fast, like this.”

I swish around the meat in the spicy broth with my chopsticks, watching as she mirrors my actions in the other half of the pot.

“Mmm!” she says, her eyes going wide as she chews her bite. “Wait, this is so good.”

“Would’ve been extra impressive if you’d thought I made it all from scratch,” I tease. “It’ll get better the more stuff we cook in the broth too. My favorite part is always the soup at the end of the meal.”

“I can see how that can happen,” she says.

“Want to try the spicy version?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

I swallow hard as I hold up the piece of meat I just cooked to her lips. She maintains eye contact with me as she takes the bite from my extended chopsticks.

Wow.

I’m struck by just how gorgeous she is like this.

It’s the kind of beauty a professional ad campaign camera would never be able to capture. Maybe a shaky camcorder, like those stunning wives in movie flashback scenes.

“Oh wow,” she says, letting out a soft cough. “That’s—that’s really good, but I’m not a spicy person at all.”

She lets out a soft giggle as she fans her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the spice. I wonder if that’s what she looks like when her cheeks are flushed from other things. How far does that flush go?

I lean forward on my barstool, brushing some of the chili oil from the soup off her lower lip with my thumb before bringing it to my lips and licking it off.

She lets out a soft gasp, her eyes flying back to mine. Before they drop. Right down to my own lips.

Holy shit.

This is probably a stupid idea.

Probably?

No, this is definitely a stupid idea.

But I can’t stop myself from speaking the words bubbling up. Not while she’s looking at me like that, with those dark doe eyes.

“I really want to kiss you.” The words leave my lips in a low rasp.

“Then kiss me.”

That’s all the permission I need.

The chopsticks I’m holding clatter to the floor as I stand from my barstool and cradle the sides of her face with my hand.

When her lips meet mine, her chamomile scent explodes out from her, surrounding me in this thick cloud of peace, calm, and her.

Nothing—and by nothing, I mean nothing—has ever felt so right before.