“Stop looking at me like that, Nikki.” He rubbed her upper arms. “I told you, you have nothing to be ashamed of. And even if you did…” A slow smile curved his lips as his gaze slid down her. “You’ve been punished.”
Nikolett’s blood heated, and impossibly she wanted him again. Wanted more. Maybe nothing as intense as the forced orgasms, given the emotional release aftermath, but he’d promised to put her on her knees and fuck her from behind so he could fit all of his cock inside her. Maybe?—
“Food first,” he rumbled. “You need to eat.”
She wanted to let the issue of last night go, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
“You wouldn’t care if I told you that last night, he brought me flowers and we ate a fancy dinner right there?” She pointed at the table.
Eric folded his arms. “Am I pissed that he remembered his flowers and I forgot mine in the car and then they died? Maybe.”
Nikolett tried and failed to hide a smile. Still, some part of her was waiting for him to leave. To change his mind the way he had before.
“I also said yes when he asked me to dinner.”
Eric eyed her. “Trying to make me jealous?”
“No. Trying to see if we’re really…if we’re okay.”
Eric wrapped his arms around her once more. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this—to just be held by him.
“I love you, Nikki.”
She burrowed against him. “I love you, Eric.”
“Now stop talking about the guy you had dinner with last night and have dinner with me tonight. And tomorrow night. And all the other nights.”
They definitely needed to talk about the future, which meant she needed to tell him something he wasn’t going to like.
She stepped back out of his arms. “I can’t stop talking about Gus.”
Eric studied her. “Why not?”
“Because he’s probably going to be our third.”
Eric groaned. “Fuck.”
Eric didn’t know what it said about them that instead of fancy room service or going out to a nice restaurant, they were eating bags of takeaway on the floor of the bedroom.
“Favorite food?” Eric asked since it was his turn for a question.
Nikolett held a bite of Korean fried chicken to his lips. Eric lifted his head and opened his mouth, taking the chicken and then kissing her fingertips before letting his head fall back. He was stretched out on the floor, head on her lap as she sat with her back against the wall. Various takeaway bags were spread out around them. They’d eaten bread and cheese delivered from a local store, then moved on to falafel and Korean food since they were the two takeaways both Nikolett’s people and his own had agreed were safe.
“Lángos,” she finally answered. “It’s a fried dough topped with cheese and sour cream. You can buy it on the street, and it’s cheap. When I first moved to Budapest, I would get excited every time I got it.”
Eric sat up, turning to lean back against the wall beside her. She passed him a kimbap.
“When did you move to Budapest?”
“For university.”
“And before that? Where are you from?”
“I was born in and spent most of my childhood near Debrecen.” Nikolett picked at her food, not eating much now. He didn’t know if she wasn’t hungry any longer, or if their casual game of taking turns answering questions was making her nervous.
“Most of your childhood?”
“I left, with my grandmother, just before I turned thirteen. We moved to live with her sister near Szolnok.”
