•••••
Simon hadn’t meant to go all cavemanon Violet, but he couldn’t help himself.
Between the teasing that morning and the memory of her ass with his handprint, he’d been primed and eager. The tipping point had been Archer talking about how he’d spent theafternoon at the store, getting to know the beautiful bookstore owner.
He’d known his friend was fucking with him. Archer was not the sort of guy who would do anything to sacrifice his friendship with anyone. And since the man preferred the company of men over women, Simon knew he had nothing to worry about.
Yet, he’d felt an undeniable need to claim Violet in the most primal way possible.
“Are you hungry?” he mumbled into her hair before pushing himself up.
“I could eat.”
She was still gasping for breath the same way he was, which made him feel like less of an asshole. He hadn’t been thinking about anything but plunging inside her so he could claim her. He was already anxious to do it again, but he refused to give in to the impulse until he fed her.
“Come on,” he said, rolling off of her and getting to his feet. “Let’s get some food in you.”
“Mmm. Okay.”
Simon peered back to see she was staring at his ass. He liked that she was. It went a long way toward bolstering his ego. He wasn’t insecure. Not usually. But he knew how people reacted when they met Archer Halligan. The guy was larger than life and so goddamn charming he could convince an Eskimo to buy imported ice cubes. And yeah, he was a looker. And yeah, Simon was secure enough to admit that.
“What did you get for dinner?” Violet asked a minute later when she joined him in the bathroom.
She was wearing his T-shirt, which came down to mid-thigh. The damn shirt had never looked quite that good on him.
“Texas chili,” he told her.
Violet’s eyes popped wide. “Nuh-uh.”
He chuckled. “Myrna made a small batch at my request.”
“Simon Jennings, you should be careful, or I might—” Violet slammed her mouth shut and spun around, leaving him in the bathroom alone.
“You might what?” he prompted when he returned to the bedroom to grab his jeans.
“Nothin’.”
He pulled them on, then followed her into the kitchen, where she proceeded to dish up the chili so she could warm it in the microwave.
“I wanna know,” he said, not giving an inch. “You might what?”
“Nothing,” she said firmly. “It’s nothing.”
“Then why’re you actin’ so weird.”
“I’m not,” she said defensively. “You are.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. All jealous and shit.”
Because she refused to look at him, Simon stopped her from moving by crowding her against the counter. He placed his hands on the countertop, caging her in.
“I want you to finish that sentence,” he said, kissing her neck.
“Trust me, you don’t.”
“I do,” he insisted. “Tell me, Violet.”
