and we chased

Chapter 23

ARIA

Cut cut cut

I can't believe I let myself think that Lewis Cunnan is anything else but an asshole. An asshole who will give you sweet nothings, making you believe there is some kind of spark or invisible string between you, to cover up the sad pathetic reality that there's not.

Cause it's not.

And I can't believe I have ever felt for his tricks.

I thought I was a big girl. Big girls know what to do. Big girls don't cry, big girls stand up for themselves...

Big girls don't cry.

I know I've cried the first five minutes I arrived in this kitchen.

Yet I am not crying now. Not anymore. Not for him.

"I find your knife skills rather concerning, Miss Grant."

Without thinking, I turn around, only to reveal Lewis standing in front of me. I look at the knife in my hand, contemplating. No body, no crime, right?

Screw it.

I place the knife on the table, and cross my arms at my chest, looking at him again.

"What do you want, Mr. Cunnan?"

I'm just exhausted. Exhausted of this back and forth between us. One day he says I deserve nothing less than the world, the other day he makes me cut three of his strips in stripes and two in cubes. Or I don't know. Something like that.

I'm just so tired.

I tried talking to Ollie, yet he only smiled encouraging at me. Yoga helped a bit, but not much really. And I am functioning of even more caffeine, for my dreams are now him-related thanks to the day him and I spent at the beach and the Prix.

He only comes at the counter, takes the knife and starts cutting his own damn chicken.

"I don't think you'd want to know the answer to that question, Miss Grant."

I sigh and still am behind him, staring at his back as I ask: "Why not?"

"Because the answer is frightening. It's all-consuming. I've been trying to convince myself it's not the correct answer for a few days now."

"What do you want?", I ask again, not minding his deep in-need-for-therapy confession.

"You."

My breath seems to have stopped in my throat.

Lewis ditches his chicken and the knife, and turns to look at me, so that our eyes can meet.

"I want you", he repeats, his voice lacking the usual confidence I am used to. He takes a step closer to me, working against all my self-control. Why does he have to smell so good?

"I want you, Aria. I think I've wanted you since the first moment I set my eyes on you. I tried to keep my distance, but I can't. Interlagos is the perfect example for it. I tried to cut you out of my system, but it's like you've taken control of my every sense. It's you I first think about when I wake up. It's your eyes I can't stop dreaming of. I sometimes find myself just opening your account, to see if you're okay. To see you."

So that's how he knew where I was in Interlagos.

"It's messed up. You barely know anything about me, and trust me, it's better off like that. But I can't help thinking about you. Dreaming about you." He takes a small break. "I can't help wanting you."

"I can't help wanting you too", I can hear myself saying.

He comes even closer, his presence being taken in aware by every cell in my body.

"Is that right, sweetheart?", he asks, one of his hands cupping my face, going all the way behind my neck.

He needs to remove that hand from there or we'll soon need firefighter interventions.

"I want you", I whisper, my voice partly shaky from the side effects of my sanity loss.

Before I know, Lewis shoves the things on the kitchen counter aside, then takes me in his arms and places me on the table. His hands are all over me as he starts planting trail of kisses down my neck. His kisses aren't soft. They aren't soothing. They're ravishing. Like they would want to feast on me in the next second.

Why the heck am I enjoying it?

My hands wonder around his neck, pulling him even closer. Since I can't let him be in control all the time, I search for his mouth and as soon as our lips meet, I start leading the kiss. My tongue slowly slips into his mouth, he finds it with his tongue, then we start kissing.

If there were an award for the best ever kisser, Lewis Cunnan would get it. He doesn't just kiss. He almost gives you a whole sexual experience with his mouth only. I can feel my body burning, the reason being the man of ice in front of me.

The irony.

"You have no idea for how long I've wanted to do this, Miss Grant."

Miss Grant

Those two words bring me back to reality, like the tape to the best movie was cut.

I'm his assistant.

He's my boss.

We're one step away from fucking in the office's kitchen.

There is no way I should let that happen.

I quickly pull away, my eyes piercing the ground. "I can't", I mumble. "I'm sorry", I add.

My feet have never experienced a faster run.