Redeeming Air by Stephanie Nichole

Author:Stephanie Nichole [Nichole, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
Published: 2020-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

15

Elodie

The smell of rosemary, thyme, and mint fill the air with the sound of sizzling as something cooking on the stove. As I make my way into the kitchen, I see a bare back facing me as he stands in front of the stove. I take a moment to watch as his back muscles flex as he cooks. It’s no secret that a man cooking is my downfall. Ha! I think to myself.

However, when the mystery man turns around, my breath is stolen away because a man cooking is not my only downfall. Prescott is my ultimate downfall and here he is in front of me in my kitchen, cooking. Prescott looks up and smirks at me, His blue eyes confident and a light with mischief. “Well, look who finally decided to join me.” I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. “What? It’s your dream and cooking is your thing yet you’ve let me have all the fun.”

“Have I?” I ask, as I move around to the stove. The food smells amazing and I’m just as surprised to see how good it looks, when I pull the lid from the pan to see inside. I turn back around. “Who knew the infamous bad boy, Prescott Tyler, could cook?”

Prescott’s returning smile is cocky and so him. He leans forward so that the spicy scent of his skin fills my senses. “Oh pretty, you’d be surprised what I can do,” he tells me, his tone flirtatious. As he pulls back, he winks at me and I feel my legs get a little wobbly.

“I don’t doubt that,” I tell him, as I study the ink on display for the entire world to see. Well, I guess not the entire world, I guess just me and the inside of this dream he’s created. I wasn’t sure how these dreams exactly worked. I mean, I knew I remembered what happened when my mom created these dreams, but did she remember what happened? Would Prescott remember? I step forward, feeling brave in this world created just for the two of us. Prescott had always been a beautiful sight, beautifully built like a Greek God, but now that we were older, everything is different. Every rippling muscle is more defined and tense with my gaze upon them. The grayscale sleeve tattoo that covers his right arm and the upper half of his chest only gives a rugged edge look to him. I reach forward and start to lightly trace my fingertip over the tattoos on his arm. The sharp intake of breath that Prescott takes causes his chest to expand, drawing my attention. “You’re so different, yet the same. It’s eerie at times,” I tell him, my voice just above a whisper. When I look up and meet his eyes, I see the heat in them.

“I’m not at all the same,” Prescott tells me, stepping back and then around me.

I feel the loss of his presence immediately. I look over at him. “Why do you say that?”

His hands grip the counter in front of him as if his life depends on it.

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