The Chocolate Touch Read Online Free PDF

lips. Came back to his eyes, as if she wanted to search out the meaning of him. That would be hard. His eyes were close to black, not at all like her clear twilight blue, which made it very easy to see her pupils dilating.
    Yes. He wanted to pump his fist in victory.
    Slow, Dom. Slow, slow, slow. But he felt himself sparkling, as he went through his chocolates, as she lit brighter at every single one, was eager for every single one. He offered her one of his more controversial ones to try on the spot. She blushed and tried to demur, and he overrode her, happily, growing cocky. She took it from his fingers, and he couldn’t decide whether to be grateful for the glove, which helped veil his giant butcher’s hands, or regret it, for it meant he couldn’t feel that fleeting brush of her skin.
    Her eyes widened at the flavors in her mouth and then closed with an intense concentration of pleasure. “It’s like an adventure in your mouth. The whole world here in your body while outside, you’re safe and warm.” Her hand, indicating the salle at the words “safe and warm,” seemed to linger a moment in his direction, but that had to be an accident. His salon was an elegant haven, but no one had ever associated safe and warm with his own physical self.
    An adventure in her mouth, though—now that he could provide. “Here, have another.” He pushed the square into her hand. “No, try this one.”
    Her flush blurred her pale freckles, but she smiled and took it. Her enthusiasm, or maybe even more the blush, tempted him to abandon this medium-size box and pull out his largest, fill it with everything of his and three times over. But he caught himself. He wanted her to run out. He wanted her to have to come back here to get her next fix.
    The expanse that had seemed so vast at first grew too small. He played as long as he could with that last empty square of metal, teasing her to choose which of the remaining flavors would fill it. But he did eventually have to put something in there.
    He slipped it precisely in and looked up into her face, trying to gauge the moment. Could he push it? Could he ask her out? But if she balked, if that made her uncomfortable, he wouldn’t see her again.
    It was a lot easier to ask a woman out if you didn’t care whether you saw her again, he realized. All his strong come-ons, his hard confidence with women, had it all this time just been pure cowardice? When he had something to lose, he didn’t know what to do?
    Why did he think he had something to lose? He didn’t even know her name.
    She looked entirely intrigued, engaged, eyes bright, a blush on her cheeks as his eyes held hers a little too long. But he hadn’t really flirted with her yet, not in a way that could be positively identified as flirting. She could, all this time, have pretended to herself they were only chocolatier and client, talking about his profession . . . in a passionate way, because it inspired passion.
    “You must come back tomorrow,” he finally said, testing, “to tell me if you liked them.”
    She smiled as if he had made her very happy. So maybe that was exactly the right thing to say. Or maybe he could have pushed it, maybe she would have said yes. Damn it, how had this grown so hard? “I will,” she promised.
    He grinned, entirely satisfied. One sure step forward was better than a long lunge that might end in a void.
    Which was the first time since he was eighteen years old that he had ever thought such a thing. He was all about the lunge.
    Guillemette slipped the box into one of his specially designed sacks with the adamant DR on its side and stepped behind the cash register. He frowned as l’inconnue reached for her wallet. He didn’t want her to pay for his chocolates. He wanted them to be his gift to her. But if he offered them to her, would that be too much? Would she feel uncomfortable coming back the next day?
    Putain . This was going to drive him insane.
    He turned brusquely away from the sight