"You didn't even kiss?!"

Christine pulled her phone away from her ear, glancing around to make sure none of her coworkers were listening in on her conversation, or at least couldn't hear Meg's shrieking.

"No, we did not." Christine lowered her voice to a whisper, hoping Meg would catch on. She did not.

"Oh my God, Christine!"

She rolled her eyes, knowing very well that her friend was probably rolling hers too.

"All this talk about how he treated you so well and how nice he looked, and you didn't even kiss him!" She was repeating herself.

Christine started picking at a cluster of grime on her shoes. "I'm just waiting for him to make the first move, you know?" Her statement wasn't in the least bit convincing, and Meg knew it too.

"Sure."

Christine tried focusing on her breathing. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on the date, holding his hand, laughing, listening to the rapid beating of his heart as she pulled him tight.

"Whatever happened to fearless Christine? Whatever happened to the Christine that didn't need permission to decide her own fate?"

Christine squeezed her eyelids tighter. The memory of her disaster audition flashed before her eyes, her coworkers and managers stepping on her like a rug, her father dying. She was trying so hard to keep it all in. "I don't know." But I do.

The phone fell to silence. For a moment she convinced herself she liked it more this way.

"I care about you, Chris. I just don't want you to miss out on things you might regret."

She couldn't shake that image of him, clean-cut in his suit, wearing a mask she found herself to be fantasizing more and more about. "I just—" I don't know how to be in a relationship anymore.

"It's okay. You take things as slow or fast as you need to. I'm only teasing, you know?"

It doesn't sound that way.

"It's hard being in a relationship, I get it. Me and—"

Christine's phone began buzzing, another call coming in. It was Erik. She had changed his name on her phone, adding a little heart emoticon right beside it the way she saw other people did with their significant others.

"Can I call you back, Meg? He's calling."

Meg stopped mid-sentence. "Oh. Yeah! Alright, talk to you later, Chris!"

She picked up on Erik's call. "Hey!" She could already feel her entire mood elevating.

"Hey, I tried to call you back last night, but you didn't pick up." Christine frowned. She must have missed the Missed Call message. "You talked about maybe doing something Tuesday night?"

Christine felt her face light. "Yes! I was wondering if we could go on another date or something like that."

The back door of the restaurant busted open and Christine straightened, completely missing Erik's words as her manager Joe yelled for her.

"Where are you, bitch?! A whole kid's soccer team just walked in!"

Christine stood and brushed the dirt off the back of her pants. "Erik, let me call you back."

"There you are. We're not paying you to sit on your ass."

Christine frowned, she was allowed a thirty-minute break for working a double shift. "I'm coming."

"You're lucky we're always short staff. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be working here anymore."

"Christine, who is that?" She could hear Erik's voice even with the phone pulled away.

"I'll call you later. I've got to go." She hung up, stuffing her phone into her back pocket as Joe continued to assault her with insults. She ignored every word, or at least pretended to as she headed back to work.

Christine couldn't understand why she was still nervous. Months of sending this man pictures of herself looking a hot mess at work, sometimes even before bed without makeup, and still she had to perfect every detail of her appearance.

All you're doing is going to his house, she reminded herself. You could wear ripped jeans and a plain shirt and he probably wouldn't even bat an eye.

Still, she put on a nice dress and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Even then she wasn't sure if it was enough.

Relief flooded her as he answered his front door, welcoming her with what she was coming to believe was his signature smirk. She extended his coat to him without even stepping inside. "You forgot this Sunday."

His face brightened. "I was wondering why it was so cold on my way back." He took the coat from her as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"See! I told you that you'd be cold."

He shrugged. "I assumed it was just the emptiness I felt in your absence."

She straightened, her face reddening with a blush. She could see that withheld laugh returning to his mouth as he extended an ushering hand to her waist.

"Come in, you're letting all the warm air out."

Erik's house was one of those few phenomena where the house was bigger on the inside than the out. Christine attributed it to the lack of stuff. There was a painting here and there, but for the most part, his living space appeared minimalistic.

"Have you been living here long?"

"I moved into this house only a few months ago. For a while, I was based in Detroit, but I had plans to move this way."

They entered the kitchen and she had to hold back a gasp in awe of how spacious it was. He had a double oven and stovetop with a range hood in the center island, even a touchscreen fridge. She couldn't help but picture herself beside him, washing vegetables in the stainless steel sink as he chopped at the cutting board. Her hip would bump into his by accident, she'd apologize and he'd set down his knife, wrapping his arms around her to pull her to him. She'd laugh and blush as he showered her with sweet nothings, pressing his lips to hers once he felt he'd gone on long enough.

Erik pulled a stool for her at the bar, patting it as a signal for her to sit. She obliged, shaking away her short fantasy as she did.

He disappeared for a moment, returning with his sleeves rolled and an apron tied around his waist. "I hope you're in the mood for shrimp. You said you liked seafood, right?"

Christine nodded enthusiastically, happy he remembered that little shred of detail that she barely recalled giving him.

He smiled. "Good."

She watched him cross to his sink and wash his hands and forearms. She was oddly mesmerized by the way he did things with those hands. It was as if every motion was calculated. Two nights before, he plucked her menu, took great care in straightening it with his own, lifted his wine glass like it was some fine art.

She noticed the way the tendons in his arms contracted, how the veins protruded as if his skin was paper-thin, how his fingers seemed to dance and caress every object. She remembered how cool and rough his hand was when he offered it to her.

"Red or white?"

Christine took five seconds to register his words and blinked in surprise. "Red."

He seemed unfazed by her staring. She wondered if he was desensitized. But it wasn't because of his mask, as she thought most people would stare at him for. It was just him.

Erik plucked a bottle of red wine and two glasses from his wine rack, crossing back to the bar where she sat. "What kind of music are you in the mood for?"

Christine shrugged, entranced by his wine pouring more than anything else.

"Alexa, tune in to channel 75 on Sirius XM."

Don Pasquale filtered out from a set of speakers she hadn't noticed in the far corner of the kitchen. She could see the slightest clue of a smile in the corners of his lips and found herself smiling too.

A timer went off on the counter as he finished pouring his glass, and he set the bottle down to turn his focus to the linguine. She watched him turn off the stove and pour the linguine into a colander he had set aside in the sink.

He must be in the design department, she thought, thinking of the firm where he worked. He's obviously an artist.

"Would you like to help me and slice the lemons for the garnish?" He gestured to a lemon sitting on the cutting board to his right.

Christine smiled and lept down from her stool. This was it, she could make that little fantasy a reality.

Erik moved from the sink to pour the pasta into two bowls, giving her room to wash her hands. She held one hand under the spout, twisting the handle with her other. Water spurted out, spraying her face and dress as it bounced off her hand.

She felt Erik's hand on hers, guiding it to turn the handle back. Once the rush of water seized, she could hear his laughter and in spite of the embarrassment, laughter bubbled out from within her too.

Her eyes were still closed as she turned to face him. "Here, let me help you."

She felt the soft glide of a towel across her cheek and opened her eyes in panic. Erik froze, his eyes glancing from the fresh patch of skin to the swatch of makeup on his white kitchen towel, and back.

"I'm so sorry."

Nerves or genuine amusement—she wasn't sure, but she began laughing.

"It's fine."

She left him to the lemon, removing herself to clean up in the bathroom. She tried removing all but her eye makeup, but the look just didn't feel right without all the strawberry pink blush.

Screw it.

Christine cleaned her entire face, not caring about the dark circles that were still under her eyes nor the uneven texture of her skin. Eventually, this is what he'll be waking up to in the morning, she thought. Might as well get used to feeling vulnerable now.

Erik was removing his apron when she reentered the kitchen. He turned to regard her with a smile, hanging his apron on a hook by the fridge before grabbing their bowls and gesturing to the dining room she had only seen a bit of from where she sat at the breakfast bar. "Shall we?"

"So where exactly do you work?"

Christine knew the question was coming, especially after the whole fiasco the day before. She would've danced around the topic, saying she worked at a restaurant as she had before, but the wine made her speak. Yeah, it was definitely the wine. "Sammy's."

Erik just about choked on his food. "Isn't that like one of the worst-rated restaurants in Chicago?"

"It is the worst rated," she admitted, poker-faced.

"How are you guys still open?"

Christine shrugged. "The food's cheap, the restaurant's clean. Most of our customers are poor college students who'd rather die of food poisoning than student loans."

Erik laughed. "Shitty food, shitty employers…"

She felt like she was shrinking into herself. She knew if she talked down on her managers at work she would be fired on the spot.

"I don't understand why you stay there."

"I tried finding another job. I just kept getting rejected."

He pursed his lips as he chewed at the inside of his cheek, holding his fork still. "I don't understand why no one would hire you. As intelligent, hard-working and beautiful as you are, you think there would be people begging you to work for them."

She felt heat rush up her neck and face. No more makeup to help hide that she was blushing. "I'm sure they'd say you're looking at me through a broken pair of glasses."

His fist was suddenly upon the table and she jumped as it shook. "Don't let them get to you like that, Christine."

She realized her breathing and heartbeat had quickened. She didn't think those eyes of his were capable of being so fiery; molten golden lava, hot and boiling. He was upset. Not at her, not for what she said, but for what her workplace had done to her. She thought herself worthless, incapable, disposable. But she only thought so low of herself because of them and everything they had told her. They told her so often that even she began to believe it.

And he was upset.

Christine joined him back in the kitchen with her bowl, standing a careful distance from the sink as he reached to turn the water on.

"It's very sensitive," he said, laughing slightly. "You only have to turn the handle a little bit."

An easy stream of water came pouring out, and he began washing his bowl and fork. Christine moved beside him, purposefully bumping her hip into his. He glanced at her mischievously, lips pursed. She didn't know what sort of wicked thoughts were occurring behind those eyes of his until he moved slightly to the side, bumping his hip back into hers.

She playfully gasped in shock.

"You didn't say 'sorry,' my dear."

Christine gulped. That was how she originally pictured it going. "Well, you didn't make dessert, so you deserve it," she teased.

Erik's eyes widened and he shut off the water. "I forgot about the pie."

He shifted to head for the fridge and Christine laughed. "Oh, you're not going anywhere, mister!"

She set her fork and bowl on the counter and pulled him back to her, her fingers bunching the fabric at the collar of his shirt, then moving to his mask as he began doubling down to her size. She wasn't sure if it was the wine or the look of surprise in his eyes that made her do it, but she just knew she had to. There was nowhere else she was going with this.

She could taste the meal they had shared. She could taste the lemon, the parsley, the wine. She could taste every flavor and every note, and there wasn't one bit of it that she didn't enjoy because it was on him.

He broke the kiss with a final pluck, separating himself with a look she couldn't distinguish between stun and awe. His thumb traced along the bottom of her lip as if searching for something, confirming it was just what he had felt.

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead in an attempt to return it to its original, neat state. He captured her hand as she was pulling away, and brought it to his cheek, pressing it there. "I'm never going to be able to convince myself any of this actually happened."

Christine laughed for a moment before realizing that he wasn't joking. He really wasn't going to be able to tell himself that she had kissed him. He would deny it. Deny, deny, deny until he came to the conclusion that the memory was fabricated.

She swallowed. Maybe this was why he didn't try to move things forward with her. Maybe he knew he wouldn't have been capable of believing it.

Without warning, his lips were upon hers again. He was holding her, caressing her, smoothing his hand up and down her side as his other hand steadied itself at her back.

I want to believe this.

His kiss was wild, desperate, starved; then loving, affectionate, sweet. He was learning, quickly.

His lips moved to the corner of her mouth, across her cheek, down her jaw, and lingered at the side of her throat. She adjusted herself, lifting her arms up his back so she could cling to him, twisting her neck slightly so that he kissed at the most sensitive part. She couldn't help the needy cry that filtered out from between her lips, drawing him back to reality.

He stopped although his lips still hovered near her throat. She didn't move, wishing that he'd continue. Erik released his grip on her slightly, and she shivered when she felt his finger guide a strand of her hair away from her neck.

"What time do you have to be at work in the morning?"

Christine swallowed. "Eight." She didn't want to have to think about it. She didn't want him thinking about it either.

He stood there a while longer, debating as Christine waited anxiously.

Finally, he sighed, long and hard, snaking both of his hands around her back. "I could work from home and drive you in the morning. That is...if you'd like to stay the night."

She could feel his hands as gentle as they were, holding onto her, begging her.

Your house is on the way for him, her mind chimed in. He could stop there first so you can change and—

"I can't."

She could feel her heart clenching itself as he released a shaky breath of air, his hands shifting slightly up her back as he tucked his cheek into her neck. "I know you can't."

I was just hoping you would.

Christine wanted to cry. Here was this man: loving, generous, desolate. He had everything he could possibly ever need except someone to love him. And here she was. She could be that someone. And she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I apologize the last chapter took a while to upload. Although most of this story has been thought out for the past few months (and some of it already written), I find I'm incapable of being satisfied with much of what I previously wrote. Also, college is kicking me in this arse this month so I'm trying my best to balance everything. Again, thanks for being so supportive!

P.S. I PROMISE this story will get kinky soon enough! I just can't resist backstory!