I take a quick shower before stalking into the main house, just in time to see Cleo serving up dinner. I grab two plates and help her carry them into the dining room. My gran raises a brow at me.Yes, yes, I’m being the perfect gentleman.Kind of.
“Did you get a dress?” she asks Cleo as we take our seats.
Cleo nods but keeps her eyes trained on her plate. “Yes. Thank you for setting that up for me.”
“Don’t thank me. It will do something for my soul to see you wearing a pretty dress for once.”
The conversation stays light as we devour the deliciousmeal Cleo prepared. She manages her salad and half of her tuna steak, but doesn’t touch her potatoes. I think that’s progress, but it’s still not enough. Cleo makes a sport out of looking like she’s still eating but nothing on her plate disappears.
Once we are done, she stands and begins to collect the plates. I snatch my own and my gran’s before heading to the kitchen. She sighs as she follows me.
“You will have me out of a job if you continue to do the tasks allocated to me.”
“You cook, I clean. It’s simple manners, not a job threat.”
She mutters as she loads the dishwasher with the plates and I set about scrubbing the griddle pan. We finish cleaning the kitchen in silence, finding we are weirdly synchronized in a small space.
My gran appears in the hall, dressed in her coat. “Don’t wait up for me,” she calls out as she opens the front door and disappears. A small tug of worry gnaws at me with her being out of the house when there’s an intruder on the property, but my gut tells me that it’s related to Cleo. She’s the one under threat.
“Unless you need me, I’ll be in my room reading.”
“Fancy watching a movie with me?” I ask as Duke and I follow her into the pool house.
She turns to face me. “And have you interrogate my every breath? I think I’ll pass.”
“Then join me in the living room while you read,” I push. I don’t want her shutting herself away when she’s just started opening up to me.
She raises a brow. “Same problem. Both of those activities are meant to be relaxing, but with you, they become a lesson in micro reactions.”
“I promise to not say a word.”
“But you’ll still be analyzing me.”
“That’s a little more difficult to control.”
“Hence why I should just go to my room and read.”
I fold my arms. “Fine.”
She pivots on her heel and enters the master bedroom, with me following two steps behind her. She twists to close the door, finding me in the way. “What are you doing?”
“Preparing to read with you.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s not…” She sighs. “Fine, fuck it.”
She opens a drawer, grabs a set of silky pajamas, and storms into the bathroom. I pick up the first book I find in a stack underneath the side table, grab my glasses from my room, and make myself comfortable in the chair near the window.
The dedication on the first page makes me chuckle. I love that people are embracing what society has shamed for too damn long. I hate the judgment, the accusations, the labeling, the distrust. If we were as open as this author, then we’d be able to have healthy conversations about sex and all the nuances. We have a ways to go, though.
Cleo steps out of the bathroom and falters as she spies me sitting on the chair with my shoes off and my feet on the corner of her bed. She scowls before yanking the comforter back and tucking herself inside. Duke drops his head on her lap and looks at her with big soft eyes. She gives him a scratch between his ears that has him making a happy grumbling noise and then she sinks into the pile of pillows, closing me out of her world as she reads about a fictional one.
I tear my eyes away from her, trying like hell to not invade her privacy by watching her. It’s not my fault she’s fascinating. It’s just her.
Then I turn the page and realize I’ve picked up a book she must have already read because she’s highlighted, made notes,drawn little hearts and eyes in the margins and around certain lines. Oh, this distraction will suffice nicely. I become as riveted in the book as I am in Cleo herself. Each time she does something to the page, I wonder what it means. Is she curious? Scared? Intrigued? Grossed out?
What is it about each of these events that has her responding? I could ask, but I don’t want to ruin this fragile truce. So I read, plot, and plan, and with every new page, I realize just how dangerous Cleo Williams is. Dangerous, but intoxicating. There’s a reason I keep my sexual encounters superficial and brief. I have an obsessive personality flaw, which is why I’ve stayed clear of women like Cleo—women who could turn my world upside down and inside out with a snap of their fingers. I glance at her. It’s too late now—I was addicted from the first taste. I won’t stop until I’ve devoured her.
CHAPTER 28
