“Really? I’m not a child.”
“I don't think you're a child. Insanely stubborn and you enjoy being a brat sometimes, but… definitely not a child.”
I shake my head, caught off guard.
“Now, open wide,” he adds, teasing, and I feel a jolt through me. I part my lips slightly.
The fry slips inside my mouth, slowly, and for the briefest moment, his fingers brush my lip, lingering as I close them. Sparks flare in a way I can't ignore, heat pooling, pulse hammering.
Thank goodness nobody is around to witness whatever this is.
Slowly, I chew, the salt and grease hitting my tongue and making my mouth water. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until now. Elijah doesn't touch his food. Not at first. He just watches me, eyes steady, unreadable, waiting until I swallow.
Then he grins.
“Good girl.”
It's quiet. Casual. Like it means nothing.
It absolutely does not mean nothing with the way my ovaries just flipped, and my vagina melted.
I have to look away before he sees just how badly that single phrase wrecked me.
I tighten my hold around the edge of the table like I need grounding.
Possibly to stop me from doing something stupid.
God, get it together, Willow.
He nods once to my chips, telling me to carry on before he picks up one of his burgers. He takes a bite so casually, like he hasn't completely derailed my ability to think straight.
“So,” I say lightly, even as I try—and fail—to ignore the way my body keeps betraying me, “this is your idea of a proper meal?”
I dislike this man. Or at least… I did. I remind myself of that while Elijah licks his lips, slow and absentminded, and my brain very helpfully supplies a thousand inappropriate thoughts about what that tongue could do.
Jesus Christ. I need an orgasm. Or two. That has to be it. I’m touch-starved, deprived of feeling good even if it is for just a few minutes, and he's the only man I've been around for weeks. That's all this is.
Obviously.
“Compared to the plastic crap you were eating? Yeah. It qualifies, but while we’re not in the house, you can tell me what happened between you and Rose.”
I eat another chip, and I don't miss the flash of satisfaction that crosses his face when I actually eat more.
“What’s stopping you from asking her?”
“Because I don't believe her.”
Simple
I pause. “And you believe me over your wife?”
He doesn't answer right away. Finishes his burger and wipes his hands as he thinks.
“Try me. Tell me what she said, and I’ll let you know.”
I exhale through my nose, irritation prickling. “Fine. She trashed my dad. Told me I need a full makeover because I look like shit.” I roll my eyes. “And apparently she wants to set me up with some idiot so I can give her a bunch of grandbabies.”
The second the words leave my mouth, Elijah sucks too hard on his straw and chokes, coughing as his drink splashes acrossthe table. I stare at the spreading mess while he continues to cough, eyes wide.
