“Little Heathen? Is everything okay?” Carter asks, and I jump as Killian releases my throat and steps back with a chuckle.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
I’m not okay. My panties are drenched, and the grin Killian is flashing me tells me he knows. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as he motions for me, and I walk over to the stove beside him.
“What’s the avocado oil for?”
“Healthy fat,” he answers as he tosses a small amount onto the asparagus, before spreading them out onto a baking sheet. He places them in the oven and arches an eyebrow.
“Wash your hands, Killer. We both know you’re a filthy girl.”
I go to the sink and pump soap on my hands as I spot Carter taking a seat at the table watching me, silently.
Turning my attention back to Killian, I ask a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. “Why do you fight? Aren’t you worried you will get seriously hurt?”
He shakes his head like I’m an idiot, and I begin to wonder if he’ll even answer me when he finally speaks.
“I don’t know. I like it. It’s a stress reliever. Besides, we make a lot of fucking money when I fight.”
“How?” I ask.
Carter speaks up to answer my question, as I help Killian put the salmon on the grill.
“People bet on the fights. When Kill is fighting, our bets quadruple. He is our biggest draw.”
I glance at Killian with a smirk.
“Can I bet?”
He doesn’t answer my question. Instead he focuses his attention on cooking. I wait fifteen minutes, watching the clock on the wall before I repeat myself.
“Can I bet?”
He looks over his shoulder at me with an amused expression on his face.
“That depends, Killer. Are you betting for me or against me?”
I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head at him.
“That’s none of your business, sir. Can I bet or not?”
He shrugs his shoulders before taking the food off the stove, and placing it on serving dishes.
“It’s your money, Killer. One-thousand dollars is the minimum bet. I will warn you, betting against me is a losing bet.”
I can’t help but giggle.
“Last time it wasn’t, but I don’t have that kind of money anyway.”
He turns to me with a glare.
“Put the food on the table before I pull your skirt up in front of Carter and spank your ass.”
I grab the plate and scowl at him.
“He wouldn’t let you.”
Walking over to the refrigerator, he grabs a bottle of wine.
