“You’re putting a lot of faith into my ability to cook at all,” she says.
I stop in front of the fridge and get to work unloading all of the groceries. “I’ll teach you.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She doesn’t answer until I’ve emptied the first bag. The orange juice and heavy cream find a home beside the still-half-drunk carton of milk that I contemplate sniffing before retreating.
“I don’t need someone to take care of me. That’s not why . . . You know. I’m not interested in some daddy power dynamic thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if that’s what you’re after?—”
She sucks in a breath, cutting her rambling short when I turn to face her. The scrap of fabric on her body does little to settle me this close, nor does the faint vanilla clinging to all of her naked, cooling skin. I don’t have to look at myself in the mirror to know I’m staring at her like I want to eat her alive because yeah, that’s exactly what I want to do. I’ve been salivating at the thought since she sent me that selfie earlier.
“I don’t want to be your daddy, Brielle. And I know you don’t need a keeper. My goal isn’t to be either of those things. This is just my way of making sure you’re eating for myownwell-being. It doesn’t do me any good if I’m distracted during a game because I’m worrying that you’re home alone with an empty fridge or several takeout containers rotting in your garbage.”
She blinks slowly, the lack of mascara on her lashes making them much lighter than usual. “So, this is for your benefit, not mine? That’s what you’re trying to say?”
“Yes.”
It’s only partially a lie. I do need to keep focused, and I’ve learned that she’s proving to be quite the distraction as of late.But that’s not the sole reason I’m here. While I’m not into what she was worried I could be, that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to take care of her.
By the way she’s twisting her mouth, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe me in the slightest. Her reaction almost has me laughing before I turn back around and start unloading the second bag.
“So, you came here just to drop these off? Or was there another reason that you want to share?”
“Did you watch the game tonight?”
“I watch every game that I can. Congratulations, by the way.”
My chest expands with pride. “The team played well.”
“Well enough that you decided to skip watching the tape?” she asks slyly, a smirk obvious in her voice.
“I was tired.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and shove a block of cheese into one of the drawers. Her bare feet slap the kitchen tile as she moves around the space. And a few moments later, there’s music falling from the speakers built into the ceiling.
“Right. But not too busy to go to the grocery store and then drive all the way over here to deliver and even unload everything yourself,” she says once she’s returned to her previous spot behind me.
“Is this the kind of music you like?”
She laughs, not buying my change in topic. “Smooth change of topic. But yes. Why? Do you disapprove?”
“Does my opinion carry any weight here?”
“Not at all. I was just trying to make you feel included.”
My throat catches on a low chuckle. I straighten and shut the fridge. Turning, I realize how close she’s been standing. Our bodies nearly collide before I reach around her to grip the edge of the kitchen island.
Her eyes spark when they catch my wide gaze, spearing right through me. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to touch me now. It’sthe music, isn’t it? You’re not used to hearing happy sounds. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to them nice and slow.”
“You already have,” I mutter, releasing the counter and setting my hand on her waist. She’s so fucking hot beneath the thin shirt. “Every single time I see you.”
Confusion washes over her for half a second before she’s letting it go and rolling her eyes at me. “I was already going to have sex with you tonight. There’s no need for the sucking up.”
She thinks I’m trying to score fuck-me points?
Maybe that’s a good thing.
