Cas is waiting at the theater door. He looks at me eagerly, awaiting an update. “How did it go?”
I smile, brushing past him, then spin so I’m walking backwards. “The paparazzi are here.”
“Oh shit! Did they see you?”
“Nope.” I shake my head calmly. “Those boys did a great job covering and even called security.”
“Nice!” he says a little too enthusiastically.
The lights begin to slowly dim, indicating the movie is about to start. “Come on.” I continue up the steps to the back row, sitting in the center seats. I love these seats—nice, overstuffed leather recliners, and they turn into the perfect loveseat for two. We settle in. Cas sets up our food on the empty seat next to him.
He clears his throat. “Get over here and sit on my lap.”
I laugh, unmoving, but he doesn’t take no for an answer. He hooks me under the knees and pulls until my legs straddle his lap. I’m in his arms in a flash. “If you want to have dinner, you better listen. I didn’t fly all the way out here not to spend every second possible touching you.”
The blush creeps slowly up my neck and over my face. I’m glad the theater is dark enough to hide my embarrassment. I’ve never been with someone as cocky as Cas. He might just break me, because I don’t think I can live without this kind of dominance now that I’ve experienced it. The previews come on, and Cas serves me up a huge bite of chicken penne. I eye him warily like there’s no way it will fit in my mouth, and he laughs.
“What? There’s seriously no way. My jaw doesn’t unhinge. I want to see you do it.”
“Challenge accepted.” He shoves the bite in his mouth without a struggle.
“Yeah, well, your mouth is bigger than mine. I’m dainty,” I tease.
“Okay, let me get a dainty bite for the princess.” He snickers, holding up an one-inch section of noodle.
“Not that dainty,” I scold.
He rolls his eyes, playing along, and makes a small, very normal-sized bite, which I happily accept. “Mmmm. So good.” I close my eyes, savoring the familiar taste.
“I don’t understand? There’s gotta be some kind of girl secret to this.”
“It’s comfort food, Cas. It’s safe, doesn’t make you sick, and it’s oh-so satisfying.”
“Do you secretly work for BananaBees?”
“No. No. No. It’s obviously a girl thing you won’t understand.”
He shrugs. “I don’t have to understand. I’m taking notes on what makes you happy.”
I don’t know what to say. How can this man be so obsessed with me? I feel so undeserving. For months I’ve been sulking around.
The previews start, and Cas continues to feed us each alternating bites of food, which sets a perfect pace of bite-chew-swallow-drink. We finish both boxes, even though I skipped several turns. When we’re done, he cleans up, then wraps his arm around me, pulling us closer together. I fall into him perfectly. His hand grips my thigh firmly, like he’s too afraid of letting go. Mine creeps over his ripped, muscular stomach, which earns me a look down his nose, as if he can’t possibly let me get away with touching him without turning a smoldering hot gaze on me. I’m busted, and he wants us both to know it.
He smirks, gloating like he’s won a Grammy. He releases my thigh and lifts his shirt so my hand drops against his skin. He’s burning hot—my brain makes a cheesy werewolf joke, then tucks it away to tell Roxy later.
Well, that escalated quickly, but who am I to refuse a perfect set of abs the attention they deserve? Before I have time to think about it, his mouth is on mine. Urgent and demanding. His tongue parts my lips, and when he swirls it around mine, I submit fully to his conquering. Time stands still, and all sense of everything is lost. My body against his is all I know—electricity pulses at each place we’re touching. My fingers drag over his abs, which only encourages him more. We remain ensnared with one another until he finally breaks away when the lights come on.
My lips are swollen, my pussy is soaked and aching, and all I can think about is climbing into bed with him later, when he whispers, “I can’t wait to take you home.”
I feign a yawn. “I’m ready. Take me home, Cas Wilder.”
“And then what?” he practically growls.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I tease.
“I need to do those photos, and then we can be on our way.” Cas jumps into action.
Once he throws away all our trash, he leaves me at the bathroom to freshen up while he takes his photos and signs his autographs. I touch up my lips so they look less swollen, brush my hair with my fingers, and smooth out my clothes. When I’m finished, Cas is still taking selfies with the teenagers, so I hang back, sitting on a bench while I wait for him to finish.
