First Dance (Strip in the City, Book 3)

10 • Thirst Trap Kitchen Conversations

Lucas

Thirst traps are all about the music and the power of suggestion.

Which is why I'm re-filming my classic egg yolk finger stir for a fifth time.

If I fuck this take up, I've gotta use one of the old cuts because I'm out of eggs.

Positioning the ring light and hitting record, I start over again.

You'd think I'd have figured out a good way to film myself, but I still spend ninety percent of my time editing clips instead of focusing on what I really want to do–learn new cooking techniques.

I have no idea where the idea for Thirst Trap Kitchen came from. All I know is that one day, after watching a dude on social media cook a meal without a shirt on, I knew I could do a better job than he was.

Now, with a thousand followers and a grid full of videos, I'm a man obsessed with making desserts.

Don't get me wrong, I still love stripping, but cooking feels different. When I'm putting my own take on dishes, it's like I'm accomplishing something. Something I didn't even know that I was good at.

I took everything I knew about stripping and put it into my own channel—Thirst Trap Kitchen. Filling tarts and hearts. That's the tagline. Pretty clever, if I do say so myself.

If only it had been this easy to come up with a stage name.

I'd spent a solid three months trying to come up with something clever, but in the end, it was Kennedy who told me to just go with Luke.

The second she pops into my mind, I try to focus on cooking. I can't control who Kennedy loves or who she decides to marry.

She doesn't want me, which is fine. I can stay busy forever making reels for people who want tantalizing cooking clips.

Thankfully, I nail this take, which is good news. Now, the last thing I need to do is film myself taking a bite out of a heart-shaped sweet potato pie tartlet, and I'm done. But just before I hit record, there's a knock at the door.

I set the tart down and make my way over to the door, wondering if it's one of the neighbors. I squint, looking through the peephole, only to find...Kennedy.

A million things happen inside my body at once, like a chain reaction. I can only guess why she's standing outside my door, and some sick hope takes hold of me.

What if she decided she couldn't marry someone who cheats? What if she does remember our kiss? What if she's about to jump into my arms and tell me she loves me?

I glance around my apartment, and curse under my breath. The place is a mess, and there's a giant ring light set up beside my bed.

None of my friends knows about Thirst Trap Kitchen–not even Kennedy, and I'm not ready to tell everyone that I'm filming myself cooking sexy desserts. What if they think it's weird? Or nothing comes of it, and everyone sees me fail?

I'm not ready for that kind of pressure. Not yet.

So, I bolt across the room and unplug the ring light. Then I carefully–but quickly–shove it under my bed. Definitely don't want to be the freak with a ring light set up right beside my bed, which is basically in my kitchen, considering how small my apartment is.

She knocks again. "Lucas? You home?"

Shit.

"I'll be there in one second!" I call back.

There's nothing I can do to hide the kitchen mess, not in a second, so I decide to fess up to the kitchen experimenting as I race back to the door.

When I pull it open, I'm breathing heavy. And, if I'm being honest, sweating a little because I'm staring at Kennedy.