Something mine.
And fuck me if I’m about to let anything—anything—take that away.
Chapter10
Megan
Dinner at Owen’s turns out to be simple—and stupidly, unfairly, criminally delicious.
Perfectly cooked T-bone steak.
Loaded baked potato with all the fixings.
Roasted vegetables that somehow don’t taste like punishment.
And let’s not forget the heaping side of unfiltered lust.
Every time he moves—places a plate down, offers me the salt, opens a soda—he touches me.Not overtly.Not enough for me to call him on it without sounding like a hormonal lunatic.
But it’s there.
The light brush of his fingertips across mine when he passes the pepper.The warm slide of knuckles over the back of my hand when he sets my glass down.A soft nudge of his thigh when he shifts in his seat and doesn’t move away.
I swear to God, he’s doing it on purpose.
And worse?
It’s working.
I’m practically vibrating in this chair.Every nerve ending on high alert, every cell in my body screaming Kiss him, climb him, ruin your career.
“Tomato?”he asks, pulling me out of my lust spiral.
“What?”I blink.
He nods toward the cutting board where he’s holding the biggest tomato I’ve ever seen in one hand and a wicked-looking knife in the other.
“Would you like a slice?They’re fresh from the garden.”
My eyes widen.
“My God, that thing’s the size of a cantaloupe.”
He grins.
“That’s what she said.”
I roll my eyes.“Har har har.”
“What can I say, Agent?I guess I’m still a little boy at heart.”
“I thought you were going to call me Megan,” I say, quirking a brow.
“I will,” he murmurs, not looking up from the slicing, “when the time is right.”
Well, shit.
My stomach flips.
