To Touch the Light: An Irons and Works Holiday Novel by E.M. Lindsey

Author:E.M. Lindsey [Lindsey, E.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Mario was absolutely and utterly useless at work. Maybe it was the unresolved sexual tension from the morning that left him throbbing and wanting through the first part of his morning shift, or that he knew Vitya was back at his place waiting for him.

The very thought of the other man in his home, lying in his bed, touching his things, sent waves of possessiveness through Mario that surprised him. His want only increased as his patience decreased, and he could see the relief in his staff’s faces when he announced he was cutting out early and would be back in the morning to plan the Chanukah dinner menu.

It wasn’t often Mario let himself have time off, that he let himself acknowledge he had a life outside of the kitchen. But this was also the first time he had anyone waiting for him—at least, anyone that he wanted to come home to.

He was an anxious mess by the time he pulled up to his parking space, and his hands were shaking as he reached for his key, fear gripping him as he wondered if Vitya really had waited for him. Mario had lowered his defenses, had all-but begged him to stay, and Vitya had promised. But Vitya also didn’t owe him anything, and he was well aware of that. They’d kissed, more than once, and they’d both made it clear they wanted each other. But Mario had held back from offering anything solid—anything with a future—and Vitya deserved better.

He stepped inside and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, as his stomach sank to his feet, he heard a faint humming from the direction of the kitchen. It took everything in him not to throw his keys across the room and run, and as it was, his feet slid across the wood floors as he turned the corner and pushed through the kitchen door.

Vitya was there, wearing Mario’s sleep pants, which hung low on his waist, and a t-shirt that was at least a size and a half too big. He looked rested, adorably rumpled, and there was something so sexy about him, it made his mouth water.

“You come home early?” Vitya asked, turning his head with a smile. His hands were pasty white with flour, and there was a bowl of something that looked like yeast bubbling beside his elbow.

“What are you doing?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Try to make challah recipe for you—show you finish bread before we make together,” Vitya said.

Mario groaned, walking up behind him, and gave in to his urge to wrap his arms around Vitya’s middle and pull him close. “I know how to make bread, Viktor,” he said, deliberately using his full name. He nosed behind his ear, then nipped at it.

“Is special,” Vitya said, his voice breathy. “Special…family recipe.”

“Is that so?” Mario’s hand moved from just above Vitya’s naval, to the hem of the pants, then slipped two fingers just inside. He let them scrape along the coarse hair there, thick and long as it wrapped around the tips of his fingers.

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