I offer him an olive, half hoping he’ll eat it out of my fingers again. Instead he stands and steps in close to me, gripping my forearm tightly. The olive pops out of my fingers, bouncing across the floor.
Instinctively, I press my free hand to his hard chest and lean away, my smile instantly replaced with surprise.
This man is huge, all muscle, and while he’s not exactly angry, he’s not smiling either. I should be terrified.
But I’m not. I gaze up at his intense expression, and smooth my free hand over his chest. I can physically feel his energy relax by degrees even as his fingertips dig harder into my forearm.
My voice is soft when I speak. “Tell me what’s wrong, Vin.”
The corner of his lip twitches, and his gaze drops to my mouth, his heartbeat thudding under my palm. “Is it Sophie or Sophia?”
I have a hard time catching my breath. “Just Sophie. Everyone calls me Sophie. Only my family calls me Sophia.”
He nods, his expression hardening. “Okay then,Sophia. Since we are basically family, I need you to understand something: this is not a fucking vacation. Do not try to distract me, and do not cause any fucking problems.”
Definitely not hating this authoritative side of him. My pussy literally gains a heartbeat of her own.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur with a soft smile.
I think he interprets my response as mockery because he scowls. “Don’t fucking try me—”
I smooth both hands over his chest—oh my gosh, hischest—and let my smile fade into sincerity. “Vin, I understand the situation. I would never do that. Can I get you a drink?”
He grinds his teeth and pushes me back roughly. “I just fucking said not to distract me. Alcohol is not apart of the equation.”
“A beverage, Vin. A glass of water? Coffee?”
His jaw softens for a split second before he rubs both hands over his face, massaging his temples like he’s exhausted. “Coffee.”
Vin sinks back into his chair, silent, tracking my every movement as I dip a round of bread into the pesto and taste it while the coffee brews. It’s perfection: flawlessly salted, the Opalescent basil complex and perfectly paired with the olive oil. My eyes half close as I savor the one bite I permit myself. Trying not to do carbs late at night.
When I open them, Vin is staring. My skin prickles pink across my chest as I bring him the tiny cup of strong Italiancoffee and place it in front of him. When I turn back to the kitchen to clean up, he grabs my wrist.
“Where’s yours?” He nods toward his plate.
“Oh.” My blush deepens. “Too late for me to eat.”
“I saw the look on your face when you tried it. If you’re hungry, eat.”
“No, that’s okay—”
He kicks a dining room chair out from under the table. “Sit.”
Holy wow. My knees almost buckle under the force of his command. Holding his gaze, I perch on the edge of the chair and wait.
His lip twitches into a little smirk as he picks up a round of bread, dips it in the pesto, then holds it out to me. “Eat.”
My heart is racing, and I don’t move, my gaze dropping to the bread and then back to him.
His grip on my wrist tightens. “Are you going to make me ask you twice?”
I can’t read his tone. Is this flirtation? A game? Honestly, I don’t care. I love everything about this moment: this gorgeous man touching me, his laser-focused attention, the food.
I let my jaw drop open but don’t lean forward. When his gaze falls to my mouth, the smirk disappears, replaced with a smoldering heat that has me wet all over again.
Slowly, he extends the bread forward, watching as he pushes it just past my lips, the sauce tangy on my tongue. I bite the bread and hold still, letting him pull the rest away from my mouth. When his heavy lidded gaze rises to meet mine, I obediently chew and swallow.
Oh my gosh, soooo good.
