I shift my attention back to the giant salad on the island. It has all the ingredients I purchased myself, so it shouldn’t be any different than if I had been the one cutting up the veggies. But somehow it is. It looks like a work of art. Brody has even quietly dug around in my spice cabinet and put together a homemade salad dressing with a red wine vinegar and olive oil base.
The salmon is now in the oven, as well as a small loaf of French bread.
My mouth is watering, and my cottage smells amazing.
There’s only a two-person table in my little kitchen, and Brody sets it while he tells me about his work in San Antonio. He also informs me that he is in town to manage the buildings owned by the Wilde Corporation. He has an employee and good friend coming to oversee the renovations needed at the mansion. Haden. I’ve heard that name before from the wives or maybe his sister.
I have not lifted a single finger, and maybe I should feel guilty for sitting and watching, but I don’t. I feel pampered.
Brody pulls out a chair and motions with a flourish of his hand. “Come, little pixie.”
I giggle and hop down from my perch to join him. “More like a princess. I’ve changed my mind about sending you home after dinner. If you plan to start cooking all my meals, you’re welcome to stay.”
He scoots me in and then bends over to kiss my shoulder, trailing a path of romance-novel-worthy nibbles up to my ear. “Baby, I was never going to leave, and I’ll gladly make you breakfast.”
I shudder as he turns and walks away. He’s back seconds later with more food than I would think two people could eat, but the man is huge, so it’s possible he eats four times more than me. Plus, he obviously works out every day. No one has muscles like that without pumping a lot of iron.
He even serves me, filling my plate with just about the right amount.
“I think I’m dreaming,” I admit as I pick up my fork.
He snickers. “It’s all part of my plan. Lure you in with food.”
I take a bite and moan around the flavor. The salmon definitely tastes better than anything I’ve ever made. Must be the spices.
Brody has his fork midair, halfway to his mouth, but he pauses and stares at me. “Woman, if you make that sound while you eat, we’ll never get enough nutrition to stay alive.”
I bat my eyes at him, deliberately flirtatious. It’s a side of me I’ve never known before and didn’t realize I was capable of. “If you fuck the way you kiss, I won’t care whether we eat or not.”
He drops his fork with a loud clank, reaches for the leg of my chair, and hauls it around the corner of the table so that he can lean into my face. His palm comes to the side of my head, and his lips are on me a second later.
This kiss is nothing like the first. It’s primal, desperate. He groans deeply into my mouth as he devours me, taking me out of my body until I’m floating. I can’t focus on anything but his lips on mine, his tongue delving into my mouth, his hand holding my cheek.
When he suddenly releases my lips, it’s not because he’s done kissing me. Not even close. I gasp as he threads his fingers in my hair at the back of my neck and tugs my head back. My mouth drops open as his lips move to kiss my neck and around to my ear. He growls, making me tremble.
His path moves lower until his mouth is on my chest, traveling toward the neckline of my sundress. He nuzzles there, dipping into my cleavage before yanking back to stare at me.
He’s still holding my head hostage. His pupils are dilated, and his chest is heaving. “Forty-five years I’ve waited for you.”
I swallow. “I wasn’t even born until you were seventeen.”
“Doesn’t matter. I was waiting.”
It would seem he’s right. I was, too.
He takes a deep breath and releases me, scooting my chair back to my place setting. “Eat, naughty girl. Stop tempting me.” He points at my food.
My hands are shaking as I pick up my fork, and I find myself drawing forth an inner siren as I hold his gaze and seductively lift a bite of salad to my lips. I make a production out of tormenting him as I chew and swallow.
He stares for a minute and then pulls himself together and smirks. “I hope you have the sort of desk you can raise so you can write your books standing.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because most days, your bottom is going to be too sore to sit.” He takes a bite and continues eating as if he just told me the weather report for the week instead of insinuating he intends to spank me often.
My face heats, which annoys me because I can’t hide my physical reactions from Brody. He’ll always know when I’m embarrassed. Dammit.
He points at my plate with his fork. “Eat, little pixie.”
