“Make you breakfast?” He arched a brow. “Sure I can. I’m doing it perfectly.” He winked.
“Stop acting like last night meant–”
“Last night meant plenty.” He leaned his hip against the counter, spoon idly tapping the pan as his eyes dragged slowly up my legs, my thighs, my throat and mouth before meeting mine. “I’m just waiting for you to admit it.”
My cheeks heated. “You forced me.”
Setting the pan down, he moved toward me, slow, predatory. “Says the woman who rode my cock like it was a wild stallion.”
“That–” I choked, “–was adrenaline or fear, take your pick.”
He slid a finger under my chin and tilted my face up. “Then you should be careful, little fox.” His lips touched my jaw, a ghostly contact but it made my breath falter. “Because if that wasn’t wanton desire, you’re going to be a disaster when it is.”
My knees buckled, irritation filling my chest. Pulling in a deep breath, I stepped back. “I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are.” His eyes took on a wicked glint. “Either you eat what I made you or I stuff my cock down your throat, and you drink my cum like it’s the best damned coffee you’ve tasted.”
“Oh, my God, you’re such a–” I broke off, not sure what to compare him to and moved to one of the chairs. Grumbling incoherent words, I sat. He brought a fork to my lips, and I clenched my jaw, shaking my head, not caring that whatever he intended to feed me smelled so divine.
“Open, little fox, or I’ll open it for you.” His voice lowered to that dark, sinful tone he’d used on me last night before he made me fall apart under him. I shuddered and his smile said he noticed.
“I can feed myself.”
“But I like watching your lips open for me.”
Heat curled low in my belly and against every shred of pride, my lips parted. He fed me, slowly, way too sensual for a man like him. Another bite and all my senses prickled, making me too aware of everything. The kiss of his fingers against my skin, the heat of his gaze burning through me, the scent of his cologne playing havoc with my nose, the whisper of his soft breathing in my ear and the way my body leaned toward him.
Through it all, the soft eggs dressed in a confused mix of flavors tasted so good, I had to force myself not to compliment him.
His thumb stroked the corner of my mouth. “Good girl.”
A tremor shot through me, ignoring it, I glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then stop earning it.” He leaned closer. “You’re much sweeter when you let yourself want me.”
“I don’t,” I lied.
“Yes, you do.” He fed me another bite.
“I hate you,” I hissed after swallowing.
“Mm,” he hummed, dragging a knuckle down my throat. “You kept screaming my name last night, so clearly there’s something appealing about me.”
Flustered, I shoved his hand away. “Why do you call me little fox?”
He smiled, not the usual smirk but an actual curve of the lips that made me respond with one of my own. “A fox is intelligent, crafty and swift. A master of deception.” He touched my nose. “Just like you.”
“Master of deception?” I laughed. “Who did I deceive?”
“You have that face, one that says I have secrets, secrets that will either kill you or make you fall in love with me.” There was an undisguised sincerity to his words.
I panicked for a moment, wondering if he knew my sister was a killer of mafia men, though if he had, surely he would’ve said something by now.
Something heavy brushed against my leg and I looked down. Horrified, I shot up, my back hitting Remo’s chest as my eyes connected with his huge dog.
His arms wrapped around me, chin resting on my shoulder, Remo chuckled. “He likes you.” As if he agreed, the dog nudged my thigh with his head. “He wants you to rub his head. Like you did last night.”
Cautious, I reached out and gently ran a hand over his head. Panting, the dog pushed his head into my hand until I scratched behind his ears. The second I did, he sat down, leaning into me. Behind me, the other beast tilted his hips, letting my ass feel his hard on.
