He glanced over at me, his eyes flickering down my body from behind his dark framed glasses. He’d worn them just for me today. “Hi, baby.”
I bit my lip against a giddy smile because this man still made my belly flutter. Probably always would. “What are you making?”
“Spaghetti puttanesca.”
“Yum.”
“Wine?” He lifted a bottle with his free hand and poured into the empty glass next to his.
“I’m getting the full treatment tonight, huh?” I hopped up onto the stool at the island to watch him. “Anything I can do?”
“Drink your wine, relax.” He gave me a sexy grin full of promise.
Oh yes, tonight was going to be good.
I sipped at my wine and told him about how excited Millie was to leave with Nana Regan.
“Until she realizes she’s staying the night,” Fyfe murmured before taking a drink.
“She’ll be fine,” I promised. “She’ll settle.”
“I know.”
I loved how he worried about her. I just loved him. “I love you.”
He looked at me from beneath his lashes, his lips curling at the corners. “I love you too.”
“You sure youdon’t want any more?” Fyfe asked, standing up to take my plate.
“Nope. I’m good.”
“Was it all right?” He scowled at my half-eaten plate.
“It was delicious.” I did not lie. “But you promised me tiramisu, so I’m leaving room.”
“You’ll have plenty of room.”
He was so dim sometimes. “Fyfe, I don’t want to be stuffed with food if we’re going to be banging each other’s brains out in an hour.”
Fyfe shot me a smug grin over his shoulder. “I see. Leaving room to be stuffed by my cock.”
I walked into that one. “Ha! You’re hilarious.”
“I am hilarious.”
Shaking my head at his nonsense, I couldn’t help but admire the sight of him moving around the kitchen. Sometimes it still felt unreal that Fyfe Moray was mine. That he loved me back when the very idea of that had been a deep-seated fantasy I’d carried for years.
He looked over at me, narrowing his eyes.
“Problem?”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“You’re watching me. A lot.”
“I like watching you.”
