Chapter 22

22

I pull my sweatshirt up to cover the ridiculous grin I can't seem to wipe off my face. As I watch Henry feed sticks into the fire, his words bounce around in my head. Love me . God. If only he knew that I'm tumbling head over heels for him. It feels like I jumped out of an airplane without a parachute. Henry looks up at me, flames reflecting in his eyes, the fire casting a red glow over his skin, highlighting the veins riding over his hands and up his arms. I suck in a shaky breath, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he says finally, his gaze sweeping over my body.

I swallow hard, scared of admitting how badly I want this. How badly I want him. "I'm thinking that you look like Lucifer come to lure me away using one of the seven deadly sins as bait," I rasp.

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and he licks his lips, his gaze dipping to my mouth. "And what deadly sin would that be, Isla?" His voice is like velvet sliding over my body and between my legs.

"I think you know."

He walks closer, towering over me, nudging my chin with his finger until I'm looking up at him, fire and ice warring against each other. "Tell me, Isla. "

"Lust," I answer, my voice cracking. With him this close, all I can think about is pulling down his pants and burying his cock in my throat. I clench my hands at my sides, digging my nails into my palm, resisting.

"Good girl," he murmurs. Those two words hang heavy between us until my stomach growls, ruining the moment. "We better get you fed before we continue this conversation," Henry laughs, kissing my cheek before heading back to the car and returning with the cooler. He pulls out container after container of ingredients, everything chopped, sliced, and ready to cook.

"I'm impressed," I admit as he lays a grate over the fire.

He chuckles. "Why is that?"

I shrug, not sure if I want to put it into words. "You went through a lot of effort is all."

"You're worth the effort, Isla. You shouldn't be impressed by the bare minimum. It makes me want to find every other guy you've dated and wring their fucking necks."

"I'll make you a list when we get back," I laugh, the possessiveness of his words doing unmentionable things between my legs. "What can I help with?" I ask as he places three cast iron pans on the grate.

"You can pour us both a glass of wine and then talk to me while I cook for you."

I pour two glasses as he tosses chunks of butter into the pans, pulling my chair closer to where he's working. "What do you want to talk about?" I ask, savoring the first sip of wine.

"I want you to tell me how you really feel about being in a nontraditional relationship," he says, dumping a bowl of fingerling potatoes into one of the skillets. "I worry we're being selfish by dragging you into this."

"Nobody drags me anywhere I don't want to go."

He looks at me, a grin pulling at his lips. "Good. Now that we have that covered, I want you to tell me one of your fantasies."

"You first," I insist, my self-preservation instincts kicking in.

He cocks an eyebrow as he dumps a container of green beans into the second pan. "The number one thing I jerk off to is imagining your face when I sink my cock into your pussy for the first time," he says, his eyes meeting mine.

Fucking hell. Desire slides through my body, igniting my nerve endings, leaving insatiable need in its wake. I squeeze my thighs together, wondering how much of this I can take before I cave and make the first move.

"Your turn," he says, carefully placing two filets in a screaming hot pan.

I don't have to take time to think about it. I know exactly what I want. "I want to be worshipped, ravished, fucked, and filled until it's the only thing I can think about. I want to be so immersed in it that everything else disappears. I've never had that before, and I crave it so badly. I need a true release."

"Jesus." He clears his throat, his cheeks scarlet, eyes dark in the waning light. "It's like you were made for us," he whispers. "We will gladly make that come true for you, Isla. And I'll go so far as to say it will happen every time." He picks up my hand from my knee and kisses my knuckles before pulling the food off the fire and plating it. He moves our chairs so our backs are to the fire and motions for me to sit.

"Why are we facing away from the fire?" I ask, taking a plate from him.

"Because the show is about to start," he says, winking.

"The show?" I ask, confused.

"You'll see. Eat before it gets cold."

I cut a bite of steak, trying to ignore how closely he's watching me. The flavors burst over my tongue, and I can't help the moan that slips from my lips. "I didn't realize you could cook like this. It's amazing. Why didn't you guys open a restaurant?"

"None of us are classically trained."

"Why does that matter?" I ask, eating a potato coated in garlic butter. So fucking good.

Henry shrugs. "Maybe it doesn't. We always thought we could dabble with cooking for the pub, but Greer is such an amazing chef, we wouldn't want to cramp her style. "

"I have a feeling Greer will want to step back soon. Maybe not completely, but she has responsibilities outside of the pub that she'll have to take care of. It could be the perfect time to stretch your wings."

"That's terrifying," he admits.

"If I can start completely over, you can cook a couple nights a week for strangers."

"I've never had to cook for more than a handful of people before."

"This won't be any different; it's just a little more fast-paced. Plus, everyone will be so excited for something new that they won't care how long they have to wait."

"The community here really is something special," Henry says, setting his empty plate down and picking up his glass of wine. "I already feel more at home than I ever did in my hometown."

"Really?"

"Really. It makes me never want to leave."

"Leave?" My heart stutters in my chest.

"We're here on a tourist visa, Isla. There may be a day when we have to leave if the government won’t grant us a start-up visa."

Why hadn't I thought to ask them about this before? "But you can't work on a visitor visa," I protest, confused.

"We're not taking any income from the pub, so technically, we're not doing anything illegal."

"You only have six months?" He nods. Fuck. "I wish I could go back to a minute ago when I was blissfully unaware."

"Hey." He angles his body toward me, sliding his hand over my jaw and turning my head to meet his gaze. "We'll figure it out. It's not your responsibility to worry about."

"But what if–"

"No. No what ifs." He looks up suddenly. "Look!" I follow his gaze, catching the tail end of a meteor streaking through the sky. "Come here, Isla." He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. We sit like that for a long time, watching stars shooting across the sky. When our necks start hurting, he takes out his phone and pulls up the playlist he made. He presses play and sets it in the cupholder, pushing me from his lap as he stands. He grabs my hand and spins me under his arm, pulling me in and holding me close as we dance beneath the shooting stars. It's impossibly romantic.

"Thank you," I whisper, laying my cheek against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

"For what?" he asks, his lips moving against my hair.

"For planning this." I look up at him, not bothering to hide the emotion in my eyes. "For making me feel worthy of something as romantic as this."

"You're worthy of everything your heart desires, Isla. I'll spend my entire life trying to prove it to you if I have to. I’ve never met someone that works as hard as you do. That has a bigger heart. You put everyone's needs above your own, so I’m making it my personal mission that all of your needs are met.

Emotion swells in my chest with every word that comes out of his mouth, eventually spilling out of my eyes in an uncontrollable stream of tears. I don't hide them. I don't need to. Tears leak out from under my eyelids as he turns my face up to his, swiping his thumbs across my cheeks, catching the tears as they fall. "You're so beautiful, Isla," he murmurs, licking a teardrop from my lips. “So fucking sweet under that prickly exterior.” I push up on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his, needing to lose myself in him. He growls against my lips, banding his arm around my waist and pulling me up. I wrap my legs around him, his cock settling between my legs, stoking the flames until I’m sure I’m being burned alive.

“I need you,” I say against his lips, my voice desperate and unfamiliar to my ears.

“You have me,” he murmurs, peppering kisses along my jaw.

“I need your cock. In me,” I say, rocking my hips against him.

“I don’t have sex on the first date,” he says, his lips moving against my neck, licking a path down to my collarbone.

“Fuck you,” I groan, dropping my head to the side to give him easier access.

“Yes, please. But not until date three.”

“Henry.” I straighten, my eyes meeting his. “Are you serious? ”

“Yes. I’m not rushing this, Isla.”

“I think my pussy may shrivel and die by our third date,” I pout, untangling myself from his body and taking a step away from him.

“I’ll take good care of her in the meantime,” Henry rasps, his gaze sliding down my body. “Sit,” he demands, pointing to the chair.

“No.”

“Sit, Isla.” The tone of his voice has my knees bending against my will and my ass plops into the chair.

“Good girl,” he growls, pushing my legs apart and dropping to his knees between them.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, leaning back as he drags his lips up my thigh.

“Reminding you of the other ways I can take care of that sweet pussy of yours.” I lift my hips for him as he peels off my shorts and underwear, my heart pounding in my chest. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this moment?” he asks, resting his cheek against my inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

“How many?” I rasp, barely able to breathe,

“I can’t count that high,” he answers, biting, nipping, and licking his way to my core, pausing a hairsbreadth away.

“Henry, please,” I beg. His gaze lifts, holding mine as he presses my legs wider, sliding his tongue up my slit. His eyes roll back in utter ecstasy as my body jerks against his mouth. He feathers his tongue over my clit and then drags it down, tongue-fucking me before pulling back, breathing hard.

“Will you come to bed with me, Isla? I need to do this properly.”