He blinked and his gaze became slightly more alert. “You okay?” he asked.
Nova shook herself out of the daze brought on by the gorgeous, mostly naked selkie. “Fine,” she answered, nudging her way past him. “But I did have some things to discuss with you.”
He shut the door and followed her over to the island where she put the cookie sheet down.
Torin came over to the counter, leaned his hip against it, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s all this for?” he asked.
Nova glanced over at him, unable to keep her eyes wandering from his face down to his chest, arms, and abs. She wanted, quite badly, to study each and every one of the tattoos on his arms, shoulders, and chest. First, with her eyes, then with her hands, and finally with her mouth.
“Earth to Nova,” Torin said.
Her eyes jumped back up to his. He smirked at her.
“See something you like?” he asked.
“Yeah, but you need to cover it up because talking is on the schedule this morning, not crazy monkey sex.”
The smirk morphed into a grin. “I bet I could change your mind,” he said, lowering his arms and taking a step closer.
Oh, yes, he definitely could.
“I made you scones,” she said, taking a step back and putting up a hand. “They’re still warm.”
“You cooked for me?” he asked, turning to look at the bowl on the tray.
The scones were covered with a towel to help keep the warmth in.
“Get dressed while I pour the coffee. We have things to discuss.”
“Now, who’s bossy?” he asked.
“Me, because I let you get by with too much last night and I need to regain some ground.”
He had the nerve to laugh. “Fine. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Creamer’s in the fridge and sugar is next to the coffee maker.”
With that, Torin turned and sauntered to the stairs that led to his sleeping loft. Nova saw that his back was also covered with colorful tattoos.
She was going to need a couple of days in bed with him when they finally had sex because it was going to take that long for her to satisfy her curiosity about his ink.
Nova watched until he disappeared from sight, and then let herself study his apartment. To her surprise, it was a mirror of hers with the same style of kitchen and layout, just on opposite sides. Since he owned the building, she assumed that he would have made upgrades to his space. He was the landlord after all, surely he wanted some perks.
Instead, his apartment was even more spartan than hers. It was as if he didn’t truly live there. There was a couch in the living room area, a coffee table in front of it with a laptop shut on its otherwise bare surface, a TV mounted to the wall with a storage stand beneath it that held various tech, and a table behind the couch that held a single lamp. There was no art on the wall, nothingsanywhere. Not even a photograph.
She puttered around the kitchen and saw that was the only area downstairs where he appeared to spend any real time. He had a high-quality knife set on the island, which was to be expected, and a bowl of fruit on the other end.
The back wall of the kitchen area had lower cabinets, upper cabinets, and a huge built-in pantry on one end. There, she found a toaster, an air fryer, and a blender. With absolutely no remorse, she snooped through his cabinets. He had an array of pots and pans, baking dishes, and a few other items that were, as with his knives, all excellent quality.
He had four plates, four mugs, and four bowls, which told her that he didn’t often have people visiting, despite his obvious love of cooking in this kitchen. The upper cabinet next to the stove held quite a few dried spices and seasonings, oils, and vinegars.
She heard the bathroom door upstairs open and knew he was about to head down, so she shut the cabinets and went to the fridge.
When he came down the stairs, still pulling his navy t-shirt down over his torso, she was putting the creamer and sugar on the counter next to the tray.
“Find any dead bodies?” he asked, knowing exactly what she was doing while he was upstairs.
“No, but I did discover some Ding Dongs in your pantry. I’m shocked that a chef of your caliber would eat junk like that.”
“What can I say? Sometimes, a guy just needs a Ding Dong.”
