The Spark Between Us by Stacy Travis

Chapter Fifteen

Sarah

Maybe I said too much.I definitely said too much.

I blamed the wine.

And the guy. It was impossible to have Braden Michaels standing in front of me in all his abdominal splendor and not wax rhapsodic about the kind of orgasms I’d only read about in romance novels.

From the way Braden was looking at me, I had the sense I’d freaked him out with my candor, or maybe it was just that he didn’t really want to know all the details. Either way, I watched as he made a herculean effort to close his mouth and blink back the shock from his eyes.

“I’m not saying it has to be all those things, but if we’re talking about the ideal, then I stand by what I said . . . within reason. I’m a scientist, after all. It’s only possible to have what exists in the real world.”

I looked at Braden, a little alarmed that he still stood frozen with his arms crossed in front of him. Was he ever going to move, or had I turned him to stone?

“Anyway . . .” I turned the mixer on and used the noise to fill the dead air. I loved watching the butter mix with the sugar into a perfect buttercream frosting. I dribbled a little vanilla in, along with some chocolate I’d melted earlier—it was still soft enough to blend well into the frosting, and the dark, rich color took over.

A moment later, I felt the warmth of Braden’s body next to mine as he peered into the bowl of the mixer. For a chocolate lover, it was hard to stay away. “That looks pretty good,” his voice rumbled near my ear. I tried to fight back the shivers it caused.

“It’s sinfully good.” Once it was perfectly mixed, I tipped the whisk attachment out of the bowl and scraped down the sides with a spatula. “Can you grab the tray of brownies? You can have the honor of frosting them since you were patient enough to wait.”

Holding out the bowl of the mixer, I waited until he moved the brownies to the counter in front of us. Then I handed him the spatula. When he took it, I felt like his hand lingered on mine longer than it needed to, the touch of his fingers sending heat through my veins that hadn’t happened with a man since . . . ever.

I took it as scientific evidence that Braden Michaels had raw animal magnetism that other men didn’t have. Fascinating.

Even if I only experienced it through the occasional brush of fingers, I had no doubt he was turning my very core molten like the velvety melted chocolate. And it felt so good I found myself looking for more ways to innocently touch him.

“How should I do this?” he asked.

“Exactly the way you are . . .”

“Huh?”

Huh?

Nope, he wasn’t asking how he should touch every inch of my remaining skin. He’d brushed past me by accident.

“Um, I meant, hold the spatula like you are, then spread it in one even layer. If you spread it in too many small strokes, you might tear the tops of the brownies.”

“Fine, if I can eat my mistakes.”

“Nope, you can eat them when they’re perfect.”

He cast me a side-eye and his lips twisted into a smirk. “Has anyone ever accused you of being bossy?”

“Only my sisters. It’s kind of my role to be the responsible backbone, in other words, bossy. I may or may not have a history of making sweeping decisions on their behalf. Just ask my sister, Becca. Story for another time. Anyway . . .” I grabbed the green and white box of sea salt and got ready to sprinkle the tops.

“What’s that?” He raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“The secret ingredient. Well, one of them. Sea salt brings out the chocolate flavor. I promise you’ll approve when you taste them.”

“Don’t make promises lightly. I’ll hold you to them,” he smirked.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He finished spreading and I finished salting and we looked at each other. “Moment of truth.” I took the knife and sliced through to make sixteen squares in the pan.

I wasn’t worried. Despite a litany of botched recipes I laid claim to, this one never disappointed.

“What do I get if these brownies don’t live up to your promises?” He leaned against the counter with one hip, his snug dark jeans highlighting the taut muscles in his legs and his tight black long-sleeved shirt leaving no ridge of his six-pack to the imagination.

The smirk on his face threw me. Was he just toying with me because I’d audaciously promised he’d like them? Or did he want something? Was he . . . flirting?

Well, that’s just plain crazy talk.

Guys like Braden—beautiful larger than life heroes with medical smarts who put their lives on the line to save people—didn’t flirt with their normal scientist roommates in the kitchen. They had no shortage of excessively hot women to fill their every sexual want or need, women like Kelsey. If voluptuous, young women were his type, I was not.

Nevertheless, I didn’t shy away from a dare, so I tipped up my chin and challenged him.

“Well . . . what do you want?”

“Hmmm . . .” He pretended to be considering the question, but I knew he had something in mind. He grabbed a spatula from a ceramic jar of utensils and began spinning it in his hand. “If I find that your brownies fall even a little bit short of your lofty promises, you have to agree that I will drive you to and from work every day unless our schedules don’t match. “

That made no sense. “So you’re going to add insult to injury if you don’t like my brownies by adding chauffeur to the already-long list of favors you’re doing me?”

He shrugged. “It’s my compensation if these things are anything short of fantastic.”

“I think you’ve got it backwards—I should owe you something if I lose.”

“Those are my terms.”

“Fine. It probably won’t come to that. I feel pretty confident in my brownies.” I pulled a couple sheets from the paper towel dispenser and laid them on the countertop. I nodded to Braden, and he carefully lifted one square onto each paper towel.

“How about you?” he asked, eyes still flashing.

“How about me, what?”

“Is there something you want if I decide your brownies do live up to the hype?” He winked. The damn fireman was flirting.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s your game, mister? You’re the one who’s in charge here. You get to lay down a verdict once you taste these things,” I said, pointing to the squares in front of us. “You want me to wager something, just so you can find a tiny bit of fault with my recipe and assure I don’t get it?”

He took a step closer to me, and I could feel the heat radiating from his large, muscular body. Maybe that was his intention, to throw me off. It was working. My heart started beating so fast I could feel it in my throat.

Two could play at that game. I took a step closer to him so we were almost touching. I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye, which emphasized how tall he was, easily over six feet.

“I’d never do something so underhanded.” His eyes met mine and moved briefly to my lips before returning to stare me down. His closeness made my body ache with desire, a warm flush spreading under his gaze.

Maybe that’s why I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. “Fine. If the brownies are as good as I say, you have to kiss me.”

I saw the surprise register in his eyes for a split second before he recovered. His shock was nothing compared to my own.

Where the hell had that come from? I swallowed hard and steadied my gaze at him, unwilling to back down.

His smirk returned, and he nodded at me, taking one step back.

“Fine. Deal.”

We shook on it.

I immediately wanted to take back my wager. Not that I didn’t want him to kiss me, but I was a person who clung fast to my plans so I could feel in control. As I veered off course from putting all kissing on hold until after I’d gotten tenure, all my life goals felt endangered.

“Actually . . .” I started to backpedal, but Braden held up a hand. He picked up the paper towels with the brownies and handed one to me. He even went so far as to clink brownies in a chocolate toast.

“Best of luck to you.” He paused to take a whiff of the brownie, blinking hard. Then he took a generous bite. I was so fixated on watching his straight teeth bite through the chocolate and his lips wrap around the bite he’d just taken that I forgot I held one of my favorite desserts in my hand.

The planet may have stopped spinning in real time and begun moving in slow motion, just so I could see the muscle in Braden’s jaw pop as he chewed the bite, and his stormy gray eyes fix on mine until he finally closed them.

When he swallowed and licked his bottom lip, it was almost like he’d licked me. I went limp. “Oh my God,” he moaned, eyes rolling back.

I barely heard his words amid the whole-body orgasm I was having. But something about the heated look gave me told me I’d succeeded in wooing his tastebuds. “Verdict?”

He took another bite and threw up his hands. “I concede,” he said around a mouthful of brownie. “You win. These are amazing.”

That thought made me happy because I felt pretty stolid in my brownie-making skills, and I liked the affirmation. But then . . . oh shit. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to kiss me. It was like something out of a high-school spin the bottle party. I felt ridiculous.

I started waving my hands. “But forget about the whole wager thing. That was just a joke. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes clouded with heat, the barest smile on his lips replaced with serious intention. “A bet’s a bet.”

His hands cupped my face as he leaned in closer, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a whoosh. I inhaled roughly, taking in the scent of woodsy aftershave and fresh soap, watching the fire in his eyes until they blurred in my vision.

The heat from his hands and the way he brushed the pad of his thumb over my cheek caused my eyes to drift closed. His lips brushed softly against mine, like a whisper. My breath hitched, his fingertips licking my skin like flames from a torch.

The first graze of his lips was just an exploration, light and slow and tender.

I wanted more, but I didn’t want to rush. If I was getting one kiss, I wanted it to be everything. Sliding my hands up the hard planes of his chest, I rested them on his shoulders and leaned into his body. His lean muscles seemed to absorb my softer curves like they were meant to meld with them.

He tilted my head to a new angle and covered my mouth with his, still gentle, dragging lips over every inch of mine and setting every nerve ending on fire. So much better than I’d ever imagined in the idle moments when my gaze fell on his lips and I wondered how they would taste.

They tasted like sweet sin and chocolate decadence that had nothing to do with the brownies. When he tugged my bottom lip with his teeth, I went limp like a noodle.

His hand went to the band holding my hair and pulled until the strands came loose, dancing over my shoulders. He ran his hands through them before wrapping the strands around his fist, tipping my head back, and groaning into the kiss.

I couldn’t have pulled away if I wanted to, entirely dragged under by the current of his lips and his body pressed against mine. I wanted to drown in it. Every kiss delved deeper and unearthed new levels of pleasure rippling beneath my skin until my entire body was on fire.

Opening against his mouth, I felt the glorious sweep of his tongue against mine. With languid intensity, my body begged me to say yes to everything and anything he wanted.

Each time his lips, his hands, his body shifted, I fell deeper under his spell. I couldn’t push away the intensity of desire I had for him. More, just . . . more.

I wanted it and he kept giving.

Our mouths fused perfectly. To hell with the plate of brownies—I could live on his kiss for a century.

As he moved his hands along the ridge of my jaw, butterflies exploded within my chest at the unexpected delight of his calloused fingers moving along my skin. I wanted hours, days of this, and I tried to give him every indication of that by matching his tongue stroke for stroke and curling my fingers around his neck.

Spinning to push me against the refrigerator, he pressed harder against me. His kiss tore through my body like lightning as his mouth ravaged mine, taking and giving and delighting me with every brush of his tongue.

I felt no inhibitions. It was crazy—just one kiss, and I couldn’t get enough. I tightened my grip on his neck, digging my nails into his skin. He groaned against my mouth.

When his lips traveled over my cheek, and I felt his breath on the skin below my ear, a moan escaped my lips. “Sarah . . .” he growled, sending a quiver over my neck and through my core.

His mouth returned to mine, and I pressed into him, feeling his arousal hard against me. It was crazy how good he felt. Crazy how powerless I felt to stop.

When he pulled away, I felt the loss like an epic black hole in the universe. Our eyes met, and I saw the hazy agreement that neither of us had expected a kiss to feel like that. We were both breathless.

But we’d agreed to one kiss.

One very long, very intense, everything kiss.

“You really know how to pay a debt,” I gasped, slumping against him. Braden held me up and gently guided me to the couch I’d been sitting on before. He took the seat across from me, clearly putting distance between us, which was the only thing that prevented me from jumping him.

“It was hardly a sacrifice.” He smiled. I liked how it looked on him.

“Nor for me.”

He ran a hand over his face. “But . . . it can’t happen again.”

The words tore through me like a sharp blade. I tried to control the muscles in my face, but I knew I couldn’t hide the hurt and disappointment. Of course he saw it. “Right. Of course,” I agreed.

I’d asked for a kiss and he’d obliged, but he couldn’t be clearer about where we stood. He was paying back a bet.

No need to tell me twice.

I had more pride and self-control than to force myself on him if he didn’t want me. I’d been with enough guys to know that sometimes the chemistry isn’t right. Or the timing. Or . . . whatever. He’d been kind enough to play my little game and indulge my request, but clearly, he wasn’t interested in me beyond an obligation.

It was fine.

“Anyway, I should get to bed. Big day ahead of me in the morning.” I stood and headed upstairs without eating a brownie. My mind was a mess of conflicting emotions—lust and pain and rejection and desire. And before I got halfway to my room, I started to get mad. Really, really mad.

He said he didn’t do relationships, but I never asked for that. If he could kiss Kelsey or whatever the hell other women he had non-relationships with, why couldn’t he kiss me?

I’d just thrown my ‘no dates, no kissing’ plan to the wind, and I sure as heck didn’t want to be dismissed and shut down when he didn’t even give me a good reason.

If I wasn’t his type or he didn’t want to complicate things with his roommate, he could have the balls to say it. And no matter how mindlessly or expertly he could kiss, I felt pretty certain he wasn’t going through the motions when he kissed me. He was as into it as I was. So what the hell?

I turned around and marched back to the kitchen.