“What’s the matter, old man?” I taunt, cocking an eyebrow. “Trying to remember what it was like to be young and reckless?”
His smirk deepens, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Trust me,printsessa, I’ve got plenty of reckless left in me. Want me to prove it?”
Heat floods my body at his words. Fucking traitor.
“You look different without your war paint,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind my ear. I resist the urge to lean into his touch.
“Yeah, well, not all of us wake up looking like Greek gods, you smug bastard.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “So, you’re calling me a Greek god now? Am I going to have to start wearing a toga to bed?”
I scoff, “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re more like a dumbass Spartan with a chip on his shoulder and a boner for brutality.”
He grins, showing off a hint of fang. “Ooh, feisty. Someone’s jealous of my good looks, aren’t they?”
“Keep dreaming, asshole,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the stove.
I clear my throat, trying to play it cool. He ain’t getting any hint that I’m hungrier to taste his throbbing cock.
I glance past him. A pot’s simmering, steam rising. My stomach growls again, louder this time.
D’s smirk widens. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He turns back to the stove, giving me another eyeful of that glorious back. I want to trace every line, every scar with my tongue.
Christ, my pussy’s practically dripping at the thought of having his cock between my lips.
Fuck. Get it together, Wren.
“What’s that smell?” I mutter, even as my feet stay rooted to the spot.
“Relax,printsessa,” he says, turning back to the stove. “I’m just reheating. Food got cold while you were drowning yourself in the shower.”
My stomach growls for the thousandth time.
D’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but walk closer to the stove.
He turns, a wooden spoon in hand. “Come here,” he says, holding it out. “Taste.”
I hesitate. This feels… domestic. Dangerous in a whole new way.
D rolls his eyes. “It’s not poisoned, I promise. Though with that attitude, I’m tempted.”
Against my better judgment, I move closer. The heat of his body wraps around me like a blanket. I open my mouth, letting him feed me a spoonful of… whatever it is.
Flavor explodes on my tongue. Rich, savory, with a kick of spice that makes my eyes water. “Holy shit,” I breathe.
D’s grin is triumphant. “Good, right? Oldfamilyrecipe.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. “Didn’t know the mafia qualified as family.”
His face shutters, the grin vanishing. I’ve hit a nerve.Fuck.
“Sorry,” I mutter, surprising myself. I don’t apologize. Ever. But the look in his eyes…
