Page 14 of Scorched

Before Kirkland could protest again, Fabrice’s lips touched his. The pressure sitting on his chest lifted. Fabrice didn’t stop with a sweet brushing of lips. He kissed Kirkland like he meant it. The tension seeped out of his muscles. Fabrice released his hand and wrapped his arms around Kirkland, deepening their kiss to the point of sexual. Kirkland was painfully hard. There wasn’t enough masturbating in the world to satiate this hunger Fabrice invoked in him. He had found other men hot over the years. Kirkland had enjoyed his little fantasies occasionally. Everything about Fabrice was different. His heart was so deep into whatever they were, and his dick wanted to be even deeper.

A clearing throat broke their spell. When Kirkland pulled away, he spotted Fabrice’s sous chef waiting for Fabrice’s attention.

“Lunch will be late unless we start now, Chef.”

Fabrice glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll get on it immediately.”

Kirkland held Fabrice’s hips, stopping him from getting away. “If you don’t give me a second, I’ll be embarrassed. You have a coat to hide your erection.”

A sexy laugh rumbled from Fabrice. His eyes swam with mirth. He opened a nearby cabinet, revealing several perfectly laundered and pressed chef's coats. “Grab one. You can help with lunch.”

Kirkland didn’t hesitate. Not only was he a man who felt lost without a purpose, but Fabrice gave him the excuse he needed to stay glued to his side. That was a win in his book.

Chapter Six

Spending the entire day with Fabrice was two parts the best day of his life and one part the sweetest torture. He smelled good. Thank heavens for the chef's coat Fabrice had let him borrow. The jacket had saved him more than once when Fabrice teased him throughout the day. He’d had a great time.

Sticking to Fabrice’s schedule, they took their dinner out to the pool just after nightfall. His feet hurt from standing all day. When Kirkland had gone on his shopping spree, he had forgotten about shoes. The entire day had been spent hyper-focusing on not falling on the slick floors and switching from foot to foot to fight the growing ache.

A sigh escaped him as he sat. “Yes.”

Fabrice chuckled. “What was that about?”

“My abused feet.”

At Kirkland’s response, Fabrice glanced under the table. “Mon Dieu. I can’t believe I didn’t notice your footwear. You’re lucky you weren’t killed on that floor. Why didn’t you say anything? You had time to change shoes.”

His outraged concern was adorable. “All my shoes are the same. I can live with a few aches to spend time with you.”

“Ahhh.” His expression swapped from worry to irritation. “Still, I never would’ve let you work in my kitchen in those shoes. You’ll need something nonslip for your next shift.”

A bark of laughter burst from Kirkland. “My next shift?”

Fabrice nodded. “That is correct.”

Kirkland’s gaze moved over Fabrice’s face. He was so incredibly gorgeous. Kirkland could stare at him all day. The easiest way to do that was in Fabrice’s kitchen. “Okay.”

“Good boy.”

Kirkland’s blood ran cold. “Don’t call me that.” His heart rate kicked up. He couldn’t breathe. Kirkland was back in that house, doing whatever it took to have someone’s attention. Soaking in their fake affection.

Fabrice threw water in his face. “For fuck’s sake, take a breath.”

Kirkland gasped for air as he recovered from the shock of suddenly being doused.

“That’s better. I’ve been saying your name for a full minute. I’m sorry and I’ll never say that again. Your boundaries are important to me.”

Kirkland blinked. He didn’t try to wipe away the water. His heart still beat too quickly to allow any real oxygen. “Please keep talking. About anything except that.” The sound of Fabrice’s slight French accent and the cadence of his voice soothed something inside Kirkland.

“If you’re up to it, we could go shoe shopping after dinner. What size shoe do you wear?”

He had to think. His mind was still blurry. “Um, eleven.”

“Ah, me too. It’s probably best you just borrow a pair from me. We’ll go shopping sometime when you’re not hurting. Tonight, I’d rather rub your feet before putting you to bed.”

The words were so nonchalant, said between small bites. They snapped Kirkland straight back to reality. “You want to massage my feet?” The question came out sounding as vulnerable as Fabrice made him feel.

Fabrice’s features softened. “Of course, mon amour. You deserve to be treated like the king you are.”