“What?” Fallow asks, interrupting my internal whining.
He has half a sandwich in his hand, and his cheeks are full with it as he chews, so the word comes out garbled, but doesn’t even put a dent in the whole avenging angel imagery. I’m still ensorceled.
“You made yourself at home, I see.”
He swallows an unnecessarily large mouthful before he answers this time, swinging his one leg in the air in front of him like a little kid and looking more relaxed than anyone has any right to be in a situation like this.
“Yep. The nice lady with the very damaged hair gave it to me. Here,” he says, nudging the plate sitting next to him, “she made enough for both of us.”
Without thinking it through, I step closer to him. I am starving, my stomach on the verge of cramping from emptiness and my body sorely in need of refueling after the day I’ve had. As I approach, he smiles lasciviously and tears into his sandwich again, taking another oversized bite.
I step closer and closer to him, beckoned by his stupid grin around the food even though I can tell he’s mocking me a little. Electricity is still pulsing between us, whether I want it to or not, and I can’t help the way my eyes trace the length of his body again as he continues to perch in front of me.
I’m careful to stop short of actually touching him. But I end up standing barely an inch away, drawing myself up to my full height so I’m standing over him, even as he’s sat up on the counter. I hold his gaze, trying for intimidating, or maybe serious, but probably giving off an air of horny and desperate because his smile never falters. Like he knows he has the upper hand here and isn’t losing it any time soon.
I continue to stare at him as he chews and swallows, even while I reach for one of the sandwiches and shove half of it in my mouth at once. I don’t care what’s in it. I just need to eat.
Fallow doesn’t speak. He keeps smiling and swinging that leg, careful not to kick me or even brush against the fabric of my clothes and looking all the while like he’s considering devouring me whole. Although it’s impossible to tell if it’s in a sexual context or if he wants to literally eat me for dessert.
“Hang on,” he says, looking at the bottom of my face with a quirk of his eyebrows.
I don’t move but keep chewing, and there’s a second while he grabs the bottom hem of the soft black borrowed long-sleeve he’s wearing–not dissimilar to mine–and stretches it up until it’s coming towards my face. Using it almost like a glove, he has the fabric over his thumb before he wipes at my mouth, cleaning whatever smear of BBQ sauce I must have gotten there.
Why he chose to use the bottom hem of his shirt instead of the sleeve, I can’t say for sure. Of course, I can guess. Considering it gives me a very close up, very distracting look at those abs, all perfectly defined like he just walked off a movie set and that golden tan that’s so even he either sits out in the sun to get it that way or is actually sprayed on.
I don’t care. All I can think about right now is how much I want to cover his chest in BBQ sauce and then take my time licking it out of every divot between the individual ridges of muscle until he’s the one squirming instead of me.
“Uh, boss?”
Fucking Lucky.
I have the presence of mind not to jerk back like a kid caught stealing, but I do try to subtly put distance between myself and Fallow, as if I only stepped between his legs just now to grab a sandwich and now I’m retreating in an appropriate, heteronormative timeframe.
“Yes?”
My tone implies that there’s nothing hinkey going on here, even though we all know that there definitely is.
“Are you coming? We’re all waiting in the war room,” he says, still staring between me and Fallow with a bewildered expression like he’s trying to put the pieces together.
“I’m sorry if I’m inconveniencing you by needing to eat after being goddamn tortured all day. Next time you get tortured, I’llexpect you to be running back to work on a tight twenty-minute schedule. But right now, I’m the one bleeding and I’m still the boss around here, so I’ll take forty-fucking-seconds to eat a sandwich before I have to subject myself to the sound of your voice and whatever moronic opinions I’m about to hear about this situation. Is that okay with you?”
Lucky’s eyebrows raise briefly, then he narrows his eyes as his face reddens in either anger or embarrassment. If it were anyone else, I’d care, but it’s impossible to say anything to him without hitting a nerve so I’ve tried very hard to give up on caring.
Without saying anything, Lucky backs out of the room and I blow out a breath. My entire body is tense, despite the fact that I’ve had an incredible orgasm and a hot shower within the last two hours. None of this is how I expected my day to be going.
“Why are you really here?”
I force myself back into business mode, taking another step back as if a little more distance between me and Fallow will dampen this sizzling sexual attraction that keeps distracting me.
Fallow tilts his head to the side for a second instead of answering, then dramatically pushes out his bottom lip.
“So grouchy,” he says, his voice low and rumbly in an impression of mine. He holds eye contact with me for a second longer, but when I don’t break, he shrugs and leans back again, the picture of nonchalance. “I’m here because I’m here. You can go outside and ask the sky why it’s blue, while you’re at it. I don’t answer to you. I’d say you’re welcome to kick me out if you don’t want me here…” he trails off before lifting the last bite of his sandwich towards his face, opening his mouth, sticking his tongue out and holding it that way for far longer than necessary before finally taking the bite and swallowing, “but we both know that’s not true, is it, my little torture victim?”
I glower at him. I know he’s trying to be cute, but my nerves are being rubbed raw by what’s going on and the lack of control I have over my emotions right now isn’t sitting well with me.
With a tightly-controlled tone, I speak again.
“Let’s go. You can sit with us so I can keep an eye on you and know what you’re getting up to. As long as you’re here, you’re staying where I can see you?—”
