The Next Best Thing: Part II

Thirty-Eight

Eoin directed me to a cosy brownstone in Chelsea, a beautifully furnished home with a gorgeous kitchen and dining area. I figured it was Gaia's New York home she had allowed Eoin to use whenever he was in town until he got his own place here. That is, if he actually wanted to; there really wasn't any reason for him to stay.

He rushed up the stairs, bringing back a cashmere throw for me. "I don't want you getting cold," he said with a cute crease of his forehead.

I wasn't - he'd made a forgiving fire in the room and the indoor heating system was incredible. I was grateful all the same, of the man, the sweet, most adorable guy always looking out for me.

He'd tied back his blonde locks from his face, getting down to the business of the night. I watched in awe as he prepared some soup for us, my favourite: creamy tomato and basil soup.

He'd made sure I managed to get down a few spoonfuls of it when I was squatting at his. It was the only food he could actually feed me and I gave in to.

"It smells so good, Eoin," I moaned, the aromatic smell drifting over the kitchen counter and dancing into my nostrils.

I leaned over the kitchen counter to take it all in and appease my amazingly starved person. He dipped a soup spoon into it, picking some up and he aimed the spoon in my direction. It was rich with sour cream and a slight, delicious undertone of pancetta. I wouldn't mind having him cook for me everyday.

Simultaneously, he prepared a seafood linguine with homemade pasta he made right in front of me. He rolled up his sweater sleeves to his elbows, practically showing off his mad skills.

"Tyler would benefit immensely from cooking lessons with you," I said.

"She can't be that bad, Zo," he replied, always looking for the best in people. I raised my eyebrows, picturing her nauseating signature, Eggs Benedict.

I woke up early one morning, finding her in her apartment's kitchen skilfully preparing what she thought was pure perfection. It wasn't, not in the slightest. More like a scrambled egg Hollandaise sauce, boiled, not poached, quail's eggs and very charred char-grilled bacon.

She only ate the asparagus after watching me throwing up in my mouth. That food was not fit for any consumption and it contributed to my worst bout of food poisoning yet. That bad was a promotion.

Dinner was served about an hour later, after I threatened to call a Thai place I knew a few blocks away that had the best coconut curries. Thai curry plus Eoin to cuddle with equated to a perfect evening for the wet weather.

He laid the table with sweet smelling candles and a vase of fresh flowers I wasn't allergic to, thankfully. He pulled up my chair, waited on me for the entire night and made sure to keep the conversation light and fun.

"That's how I met Kian," he explained, narrating a story about his first girlfriend. She was a promiscuous young thing, dating the two best friends at the same time.

"He met Gaia a few weeks later and decided that he had found his soulmate. She broke up with me before I could by the way, a real class act," he boomed, reminiscing about his surprisingly very interesting childhood.

The food was heaven, passionately executed and beautiful in my mouth. I was hooked on him after I had a bite of my linguine, in a somewhat trance as we talked. I processed everything he told me, storing it all in my mind's memory for safe keeping, the background of the beautiful Eoin.

The candlelight played in his eyes, making him one good looking fella in this setting, the cocktail of gorgeous and sexy one could only blessed with. He caught me staring at him, watching him with a small smile on my face; he subtly reached out for my hand.

"Thank you for allowing me to cook for you," he smiled.

"Thanks for inviting me," I answered, covering our intertwined hands with my free palm.

"I love your company. You're so much fun to be around."

"When I'm not breaking down every other day," I finished his sentence.

"I feel closer to you when you're emotional, Zoe. Your vulnerability exposes me to you, your emotions and feelings, the way you see and feel things. I know you now more than ever because I've been there through it with you," he revealed.

He stroked my cheek, cupping my face in his hand and looked into my eyes. "That's what makes you so irresistible, so beautiful. I love being near you. You're always opening a little of yourself to me. I'm so lucky to be able to hold you and just have you with me like this, right now."

He struck a nerve, and all of a sudden I felt what I think he felt for me, what I'd been waiting for: that jolt of pure happiness, those butterflies in my stomach, the warmth in my ears.

I helped him clear the table and I wanted nothing more than to cuddle with him by the fire. That is, until Min was calling me, asking me why grocery shopping had turned into a possible sleepover.

I perched on the kitchen counter, watching him work the dishwasher, showing off his handsome masculinity.

"I was thinking I'd have you for dessert," he whispered into my neck, a slight smirk in his voice.

"Have at me," I agreed, the hairs on my neck standing up. I bit my lip anxiously, my stomach tightening painfully and my palms becoming sweaty.

He looked at me with amusement, smiling at how much I wanted him to do what he intended to me, what we both knew we wanted, something I was waiting for.

He made us both mochas for the orange-scented biscotti he'd baked as we ate dinner. This was his ploy to lure me after every bite into this web he was weaving, his plan to make me want him more than I already did.

I was falling slowly into this pit of uncertainty, one where I could get hurt again and maybe regret everything; or one where my life began again and I had a purpose, a reason, to love.

He stood opposite to me and he just stared at me over his mug, elusive and mysterious as ever. He was looking at me with a knowing stare, like he knew something I didn't, a secret I was eager to find out.

He eventually leaned in, slowly, setting my tall glass mug aside, his body positioned in front of my legs.

"You have something there," he muttered faintly against my lips. He licked his lips, slowly, seductively, and he pulled my waist into him. I parted my legs and wrapped my arms around him, drawing him into my space.

"Where?" I whispered.

"Here." He moved into me, licking my upper lip in one sensual, slow movement, and he pecked my pouted lips.

He teased me again, this time his lips caressing my parted lips waiting for him to really kiss me in the purest sense of the word; he did. I tasted him inside my mouth, getting himself acquainted with the outer reaches of my inner most person, familiarising our lips.

He touched, pulled back, and touched them again, his impulses to ravage my mouth controlled with some reluctance. His hands were secure around me, holding me close to him, a self-assertive grip on my body.

I gripped his hair and his neck, a euphoric sensation taking over my body. He crawled up onto me on the counter, his lips never leaving mine. We were finally taking that step further where we allowed our indulgences, and I wasn't going anywhere.

My neck was next, kissed, licked, bitten even, ever so slightly, driving me crazy. I'd been waiting so long for this, for any physical affection between us.

I just let him kiss me, feeling everything stimulated by his body coursing through my veins.

This was right, more than right. It was meant to be, forces above me bringing me closer to him, to know him and understand him. To love him.