Page 145 of Face Off

“You aren’t the chef.”

“I made the dough.”

“You mixed water with masa.”

“Cooking involves chemistry.”

“So does what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

Her breath caught when I kissed the place beneath her ear before stepping away to check the meat.

Charm stood motionless for half a second, flour dusting her hands and a flush climbing from her throat. Then she returned to pressing tortillas as though I hadn’t just reminded her exactly how little patience I had left after the maze.

I threw the steak onto the hot griddle. Smoke and spices filled the ballroom while everyone shouted across stations, accused each other of stealing ingredients, and ignored Bliss repeatedly announcing that sabotage would result in disqualification.

Across the aisle, Briggs and Lyric were arguing over cilantro.

“It tastes like soap,” Briggs said.

“It does not.”

“My palate is sophisticated.”

Temple leaned across Rider’s cutting board. “I think blue cheese tastes like it comes from sad milk.”

Briggs stilled, a look of shock and agreement on his face. “It tastes haunted.”

She laughed hard enough to snort, then covered her mouth with both hands. Briggs stared at her as though he had never received better support in his life.

Lyric dropped the cilantro onto their counter harder than necessary and watched the entire exchange. Her eyes narrowed when Temple snorted, then hardened further when Briggs continued staring after she covered her mouth. The look was possessive without carrying a trace of affection, as though Briggs’s attention belonged to her even when she treated him like shit.

Charm caught me watching them. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s good people.” I agreed.

“And beautiful.”

There it was—the opening that would once have become a spiral but would be either way if I wasn’t careful. I take a deep breath preparing myself as if I have to defend my comment. I turned the steak. “She’s Rider’s friend.”

“I know.”

Charm didn’t ask whether I thought Temple was beautiful. She didn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed her or punish me for having eyes. She stepped between me and the griddle, took my free hand, and lifted it to her mouth.

Now it’s clear the game she is playing. Hadita posesiva.

I like it.

I will never fucking admit that.

Seasoning coated my thumb from testing the meat and Charm closed her lips around it. Every useful thought in my head burned alive.

She held my gaze while her tongue moved slowly over my skin, removing the salt and spice with deliberate, filthy precision. She didn’t stop at the pad of my thumb. Her mouth followed it to the first knuckle before she released me with a soft pull of her lips.

Temple glanced over and caught Charm with my thumb between her lips. Amusement curved her mouth before she politely returned her attention to Rider’s station.

Charm knew she had seen.

Her eyes never left mine as her tongue made one final, deliberate pass over my skin.