He pops open the middle console and pulls out spearmints in a round, blue-green container.
Lifting his eyes, he flips up the tab and offers me one.
I grin. “I can take a hint.” I scoop one out, but he rolls his eyes as he takes two, places them on his tongue, closes the container, and drops it back in the console.
“You always smell divine,” he says around the mints clinking against his teeth.
I crunch down on mine, letting the taste explode like ice in my mouth.
Then I take another drink.
The combination is heavenly.
“Do I?” I ask, after I swallow. “You don’t really know me. Maybe I’m only like this when I’m with you.”
He grips the steering wheel, knuckles blanching as his forearms tighten beneath his sleeve, pushed up just slightly.
The watch is on his other hand and I glance at it, fingers on his thigh.
It’s fucking endearing, such a cheap watch always affixed to his wrist. It makes me want to bite him.
“I want to though,” he says quietly, but he doesn’t look at me. “Know you.”
“Don’t get too close,” I answer sweetly. “Or I might bite.”
He smiles then, and the sight of it makes my heart race. “Maybe I like it rough.”
“Being with me is that, but not just in the ways you think.” I shouldn’t have said that. It’s way too open, way too soon, and this man might have been stalking me over the weekend and possibly killed three men who had interactions with me.
Yet somehow, I don’t feel endangered. Or I just like the danger.
“Maybe I need someone to keep me on top of my game.”
“You seem to be doing yourgamejust fine.” I bat my lashes playfully at him.
He rolls his eyes but the smile is still half there. “You don’t scare me, North.”
“Maybe I should.”
“Nah,” he says easily. “I’m winter proof.”
The joke makes me laugh and I know I’m in too deep already.
“Why aren’t you eating?” That question is unexpected and the laughter dies off immediately.
My throat tightens.
So he’s going to hit me where it hurts.
I think of Jemma.Slut Dwas nothing to the fear Nolan put in me when it comes to food.
My cheeks heat, but I shift in my seat and say casually, “I’m not hungry.”
“Bullshit.” There’s anger in his tone.
I cut my eyes to him. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t need you to. I’m fine.”
He turns to me, and our gazes lock. “Take a bite,” he whispers, jerking his chin to the bag at my feet.
