Page 66 of Cupid Calling
His voice was unintentionally pitched low when he leaned further, over Ejiro’s shoulder in pretence of looking into the fridge as he murmured, “What are you looking for?”
Ejiro seemed to sway a bit where he stood, as though he didn’t know if he wanted to get away from Obiora or lean into him. His obvious desire was like a flame to the fuel of Obiora’s own need.
“Um. Orange juice.” Ejiro’s voice came out just as husky. He didn’t seem to even notice it, the way he subtly tilted his head to the side, baring his throat where Obiora’s face was, as if silently begging him to place a kiss on the smooth skin that joined his neck and shoulder.
Jesus Christ.
Obiora had forgotten the question he’d even asked. He leaned even closer, over Ejiro’s shoulder, making sure his chest brushed against Ejiro’s back. Ejiro shivered, but he didn’t move away. In fact, his body seemed to melt a little, shoulders loosening, like he’d let out a breath he’d been holding in.
Obiora wanted to do something reckless. His eyes dropped to Ejiro’s bared throat; it would be so easy to kiss him there, just a slight brush of lips—so slight Ejiro might wonder if he’d imagined the contact. But even if Ejiro’s body might want him, Obiora didn’t want to take that as consent; he wanted explicit words of desire from Ejiro’s mouth.
He wanted Ejiro to beg to be touched, the way he so clearly, desperately wanted to be.
The sound of cutlery tinkling on ceramic from the dining area yanked Obiora back to earth. There was a brief silence, then the sound of flip flops slapping gently against the tiled floors, coming in the direction of the kitchen.
“Pulp is on the bottom shelf, on the door,” Obiora said at a normal volume, though his voice was still throaty. “Pulp-free’s in the middle.”
Then he walked away, toward the cupboards holding the plates just as Jin came into the kitchen with his dirty dishes, heading for the sink.
“Oh, that smells amazing. What is it?” He peered into the pan on the stove.
Ejiro seemed to shake himself out of his trance, grabbing the pulp-free orange juice and closing the fridge door. Even with his dark skin, Obiora could tell he was a little flushed. His dark eyes were even darker—dazed, deep pools of black desire.
“Scrambled eggs,” Obiora answered, barely able to tear his eyes away from Ejiro, despite how obvious he knew it must make him look.
“With tomatoes and onions?” Jin asked, wrinkling his nose a little. He seemed to be completely oblivious of the tension in the air.
Obiora laughed. “And hot peppers. Some call it egg sauce. It’s a Nigerian recipe.”
“Well. It smells absolutely delicious. I would ask for some, but I’m stuffed.”
“I can make it again if you like?”
“Oh, would you? That would be lovely. Thank you. I really want to taste it.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
“Um.” Ejiro cleared his throat. “Obiora, can I have the bread please? I’m going to make some toast.”
“Oh, I apologise,” Jin said, in the middle of washing his dishes. “I made French toast and forgot to return the bread to the right counter. Do pardon me.”
“It’s all right,” Ejiro said, a small smile on his face.
Obiora found the loaf of bread beside the stove. He picked it up and reached over the island to hand it to Ejiro.
Ejiro took it from him, deliberately or not-so-deliberately brushing their fingers together as he did. With how quickly he turned around to face the toaster, Obiora was betting on it being the former. God, he was so fucking endearing.
“Ejiro?”
“Yeah?” Ejiro hesitated, before glancing at him.
“Four slices for me, thank you.” Obiora punctuated his sentence with a wink.
Ejiro literally stumbled backward over thin air. He spun around in embarrassment to face the toaster, reaching for the bread like it’d save him. Obiora wanted to walk right up to him and kiss him so badly it was like a physical ache.
“See you both later.” Jin returned the hand towel he’d used for his hands back to the hook attached to the wall. “And enjoy your date with Sophia today, Obiora.”
“Will do. Later, Jin.”
