Between The Lines

Chapter 126: Mundane Carrots

Rebecca's POV (1st Person):

Continuation:

The air between us felt heavier after those words, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine. My heart thudded in my chest, and just as I thought he might lean in for more, I gave him a teasing shove.

"Not a chance," I said, sliding out from under him as smoothly as I could, trying to play it cool even though my whole body was tingling from his touch. I felt his gaze following me as I stood up, my legs a little unsteady but my grin firmly in place.

He raised an eyebrow, still lounging lazily on the couch, looking effortlessly good in just a casual tee and jeans that hung perfectly on his hips. Seriously, how does he do that?

"You're just gonna walk away?" he asked, his voice teasing but with that edge of challenge.

"Yup," I shot back, heading toward the kitchen, "and you're gonna help me make dinner, since apparently, you're so good at everything."

"Oh, I'm good at everything, huh?" he called after me, getting up to follow.

"I didn't say that," I laughed, but he was already in the kitchen, standing far too close behind me as I opened the fridge. "What do you want to eat?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his hands rested lightly on my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck as he leaned in. "You," he whispered, the word sending shivers down my spine.

My face burned. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, and I stepped closer to the open fridge, pretending to search for something to make—anything to create some distance between us. The cool air wasn't doing much to calm my racing heart.

He's so trying to show off. I could practically feel his eyes on me, watching with that stupid smirk of his.

"What are we making?" I asked, my voice coming out slightly higher than I intended.

There was a moment of silence before I felt his hands on my waist again. "I already told you what I want," he said, his voice low, teasing. His breath was warm against my neck, making it impossible to think straight.

I rolled my eyes, but my body betrayed me, leaning back into him for just a second before I caught myself. "Yeah, well, you're not getting that tonight," I shot back, trying to sound confident, but my voice wavered.

"Shame," he murmured, stepping away just as quickly as he'd closed the distance. "Guess I'll have to settle for pasta."

"Yeah, you will," I muttered, grabbing a box of spaghetti from the fridge and spinning around. But of course, he was standing right there, far too close for my liking—or maybe exactly how close I liked it. I was so caught up in the smell of him and how good he looked in a plain t-shirt, his curly hair slightly messy like he hadn't tried at all, that I almost dropped the box.

"Move," I said, trying to sound casual as I shoved the box against his chest. But my face was still burning, and I could tell by the way his grin widened that he knew it.

He stepped aside, taking the pasta from me with one hand, the other trailing lightly down my arm as I brushed past him to grab the pan.

This was torture.

"So, do I get a real job or am I just here to look pretty?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter again, watching me.

I snorted. "Yeah, you're here for decoration."

"I knew it," he said with a mock sigh. "Good thing I'm excellent at that."

I rolled my eyes again but couldn't hide the grin that tugged at my lips. "Well, since you're such a good decorator, you can chop the vegetables."