Page 53 of Throw Down
“That can’t be true.” Briar pulled back and searched his face.“I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but there’s no way you haven’t at least thought about being with a man before.”
Derek chuckled and tweaked his pert, adorably freckled nose.“I thought about plenty,” he said wryly, “but kissing wasn’t part of it.Now, stop distracting me. Those steaks aren’t going to cook themselves.”
Briar wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he allowed Derek to reach around his neck and disentangle his arms.
“I don’t think you should be allowed to call it steak,” he pouted, watching as Derek set the meat on a cutting board and seasoned them with a practiced hand.
“Spoken like a city boy,” Derek teased.“C’mon. I’ll teach you.”
“Oh, you like it burnt?” Briar asked, crossing his arms.His tone was lighthearted, but Derek sensed his insecurity.He reached out and snagged Briar by one delicate wrist, tugging him forward to stand by his side.
“Anyone can cook,” he said, giving him a reassuring squeeze.“It’s all in the details. Just pay attention and trust your gut.”
“My gut usually tells me to order takeout,” Briar said, flashing an impish grin.
Derek set an onion on a fresh cutting board and handed him a knife.“Thin slices.”
Briar hesitated, holding the knife awkwardly.He was so petite, the blade was nearly as big as his forearm.“I think I’m more of the ‘watch and learn’ type,” he admitted.
Derek took pity on him and stepped behind him, covering Briar’s slender hand with his larger one.He guided Briar’s hand in an easy motion.
“Like this,” he said, bending his head to murmur against the shell of Briar’s ear.“Just take it slow and steady until you get the hang of it.”
“I’m trying,” Briar saidbreathlessly.His weight shifted, as if he wanted to lean back against Derek but wasn't sure heshould.“You don’t make it easy to goslow.”
“I know.” Dereksighed.
He knew they were talking about more thancooking, but he was desperate to gorge himself on every new experience while he had thechance.
Chapter Twenty
BRIAR
Bear was an acquired taste, as it turned out, and Briar wasn’t desperate enough to learn it.The very first bite had his face twisting into an involuntary grimace.He chewed carefully, trying to avoid as many taste buds as possible.The strangely sweet, gamey flavor was revolting—or maybe it was all in his head.Maybe he just hated the idea of eating Winnie the Pooh.
But Derek had gone out of his way to set the table and light a candle, surprisingly romantic for a man who still had grease stains beneath his fingernails.So, Briar forced himself to cut another small piece.He chewed methodically, silently squirming and trying not to reveal his discomfort.
Derek took one look at his expression and laughed.“Not quite your thing, huh?”
Briar glanced up, caught red-handed, fork halfway to his mouth.
“No, it’s good,” he lied. Then he glanced down at the perfectly cooked, soft, slightly grainy slab of meat on his plate and swallowed hard.“I just…I’m a picky meat eater,” he admitted.
Derek’s brows rose in surprise.“Would’ve been useful to know earlier.”
“I didn’t want to spoil the mood.” Briar set down his fork and took a large gulp of wine.
Derek’s lips twitched, struggling to mask his amusement. Briar’s gaze skittered sideways to hide his embarrassment. He was so busy staring at Sabbath, gleefully tearing a stuffed toy to bits, that he didn’t notice when Derek moved. The clink of stacking plates caught him by surprise.
“What are you doing?” he asked, startled, as Derek pushed his chair back and stood.
He expected a snide comment, maybe something about city kids or snowflakes, but Derek just tossed a crooked smile over his shoulder and said, “We’re skipping straight to dessert.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Briar asked suspiciously.
Derek chuckled and opened the breadbox on the counter, producing a bright pink box with the cheery face of a smiling pig.
“Real dessert,” he said with a grin.“Grab the wine. The best place to enjoy peach pie is on the porch.”