On a Roll by Beth Bolden (best historical biographies TXT) 📕

like a good place to start,” Sean agreed. He drizzled it in, and then kept stirring, incorporating it into the mixture.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Gabe’s hand reach out towards the pan and at the last second, he slapped it away.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Gabe’s expression was sheepish. “Trying it?”

“Then get a spoon, you heathen,” he said. “Also, this is hot, and it has sugar in it, and you’d probably have burned the hell out of your fingers.”

“I’ve burned them so many times, I think I’ve got permanent callouses on the tips,” Gabriel admitted.

Sean knew; he’d felt them, when Gabriel had touched him all over. Just the idea of those soft-rough fingers touching him now made him shiver.

“Maybe,” he said, dropping his voice, because while they might be in his truck, the window was open and people could overhear them, “maybe I want to make sure your fingers are in excellent condition for later.”

“Later, huh?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes sparkling. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’d thought about inviting you over last night . . .” Sean said, trailing off. But after Tony’s announcement, it had felt weird, like the two worlds he was desperately trying to keep separate had collided. Maybe they were still colliding, but he’d talked himself off that cliff last night. He’d been so clear before this whole thing started. It was just sex. And this, Sean reminded himself, wasn’t even a date! This was for work. They’d been assigned this task by Tony, and while they were both technically independent and could’ve told him to fuck off, Tony would make them regret it.

“I wanted to come over last night,” Gabriel said.

Sean liked his bluntness. Liked that they weren’t dancing around this as much. It was easier, clearer, way less complicated to just state outright what they both wanted. And it reassured him because it felt nothing like dating.

They were working together. They were fucking. That was all.

“Well, you can tonight, if you want,” Sean said.

“I do want.” Gabriel’s voice had gone very low and there was an intensity in his expression—not just a want, but a need—and Sean felt himself go very hot and then very cold, all over.

He really loved his job. Had loved it for the two years he’d done it. But suddenly, he wished that he could just take a day off.

Turn off the burner and lock the door behind them and drag Gabriel back to his house now.

Sean glanced up at him, their gazes locking, and his fingers trembled on the spatula. “I wish . . .”

“I know,” Gabriel said.

It had been a long time since he’d dated, but he swore that friends with only benefits didn’t look at each other like that. Didn’t yearn for each other the way he was yearning now. You’re just fucking, Sean reminded himself, that’s what you asked for, and that’s what you’re getting.

Instead of holding Gabriel’s gaze, Sean glanced down at the pan and gave it another half-hearted stir. The good news is that if things were intense now, right in this moment, they’d definitely be calmer by the end of the night, when Gabriel walked home with him. He knew they would be.

As for right now, he could focus on the task at hand. Fulfill Tony’s request, and do it, to everyone’s likely shock, without killing each other.

“Can you grab me that spoon over there?” Sean asked, gesturing to the organizer full of utensils. “I think this is about ready.”

Gabe slapped the spoon into Sean’s waiting palm. “You think so?” he said.

Sean stirred the mixture with the spoon and then let it slowly drizzle out. It seemed thick and also sticky enough. The only question was, did it taste good? He lifted the spoon to his mouth and this time it was Gabe’s hand that shot out and held his elbow, preventing him from actually tasting it.

“You’re gonna burn your mouth,” Gabe said, “and I'm definitely going to need it later.”

Sean laughed. “Fine, fine, fine,” he said, carefully blowing on the hot liquid on the spoon, waiting another second until it was probably not nuclear. “I’ll save my tongue for you,” he said.

“Damn straight you will,” Gabriel said with an amused chuckle.

This time when Sean raised the spoon to his lips, he was more careful, flicking his tongue out, just to taste the tiniest bit, because Gabe was annoyingly right, he didn’t want to burn his tongue.

Flavor exploded across it. Garlic and sesame and the umami of the soy sauce, balanced by the sweetness of the brown sugar, and then the slightest hint of tang from the balsamic vinegar.

“It’s really good,” Sean said, offering the spoon to Gabriel, who didn’t carefully lick it, he stuck the whole thing in his mouth and smiled widely as he tasted it.

“That is really fucking good,” Gabe agreed. “And don’t get all pissy, but it’s the balsamic that makes it.”

Sean had been thinking the same thing, and hoping that Gabriel wouldn’t notice, but of course he had. Despite what he thought—that all he did was make his nonna’s recipes—Gabriel was a great cook and a very talented chef.

“It works,” Sean said noncommittally. He liked Gabriel now, though the truth was, he wasn’t exactly sure when that had begun, but they weren’t getting all buddy buddy. Just in bed, that was all. He didn’t need to fix Gabriel’s crisis of confidence.

“Yeah, it does,” Gabriel said, sounding very pleased with himself.

And maybe he didn’t need to, anyway. After all, Sean had never had even an inkling that Gabriel wasn’t confident until his confession the other night. There were even times he’d believed Gabriel was annoyingly overconfident.

Maybe it was an act, but Sean decided that it wasn’t his business. He was just here for the fucking, thank you very much.

“Let’s get the meatballs in there,” Sean said, and Gabriel nodded, popping the lid on the container. He grabbed a knife from the bin and casually cut them in his hand as he