Page 44 of Stolen Summer
He carried me inside, straight into the kitchen, setting me down on the island counter. Cole didn’t move away but stayed between my legs, frowning.
I tried not to think about his muscular body. “That was so unnecessary,” I said, blowing the hair out of my face.
He leaned toward me until our faces were only inches apart. “Stay. Don’t budge an inch.” His hot breath teased my lips.
“What if my nose itches? Or I get a cramp?”
“Killer,” he growled. “This isn’t a game.”
“You’re acting ridiculous. I got a little lightheaded. That’s all. I’m sure if I eat something I’ll be fine.” I went to scoot off the edge, but Cole was right there, scowling at me, his hands attaching to my thighs.
He pinned me with an effective I-told-you-not-to-move glare. “Which is exactly why I’m making you something.” His voice held an air of strain as if he was getting frustrated with me.
“You’re going to cook for me again? You better watch yourself, or I might think you’re trying to impress me.”
The hoop winked at the corner of his mouth as it tipped. He’d put the piercing back in, and my heart fluttered, causing my frown to deepen.
“I’ve already made a lasting impression.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
It was no hardship watching Cole in the kitchen, and it stirred memories of the night he cooked in the dark for me. I could scarcely believe it was only two days ago. As he gathered items from the fridge, he handed me a can of soda. It fizzed when I popped the top and took a drink, my eyes never wavering from Cole.
He looked nearly as good as whatever he was concocting. If I were honest, I couldn’t decide if I should take a bit of him or the food first.
“Here, eat this,” he demanded, setting a plate of toasted sandwiches before me. They were little sliders, dusted with butter and seasonings on top, and smelled freaking delicious.
I blinked. “I can’t eat this all.”
“Just eat. It won’t go to waste. Trust me.” He leaned against the counter, waiting with an expression of steel determination that said if I didn’t pick one of the sandwiches up in seconds and stuff it into my mouth, he’d gladly do it for me.
My stomach growled.
Melted provolone cheese oozed into my mouth before the zest of Italian meats hit my taste buds. But the kicker was the salad mixture he’d scooped on top. I’d watched him put the lettuce, mayonnaise, red onion, minced pickles, and oil blend together. I’d been skeptical, but holy shit. This was the best damn sandwich I’d ever had.
“What is this?” I asked after I swallowed the first bite, going in for the second.
“A grinder.”
“My dad would love this. It’s really good.”
“Good. Eat another.” Satisfied I was eating, he opened the fridge to put away the ingredients, giving me a pleasant view of his backside, and oh, what an ass.
“Are you always so pushy?” I ate slower after the first one, knowing if I gobbled it down as my stomach desired, I’d more than likely hurl it up as quickly as I inhaled it. Since I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day, I refused to puke on Cole.
“Are you always so careless?” he asked, plucking a slider for himself, which he ate in two bites.
“I prefer the term reckless.”
Cole reached across the countertop and helped himself to my drink. I guessed he didn’t have a problem with sharing or asking, but I didn’t mind. Not really. “That I can understand.”
Why did I find this scenario so intimate? It wasn’t like we were eating in bed naked, but with the feelings churning within me, we might as well have been. “I bet you can.”
His thumb brushed over the side of my mouth before bringing it to his lips and licking off a speck of mayo. “Have you made a decision?” I wondered how long it would take for him to bring up the deal. To his credit, it was longer than I’d accounted for.
I squeezed my legs together, a bloom of heat moving into my cheeks. “Just so we’re clear. We’re not having sex.” Yet the fire in my core begging to be stoked suggested otherwise.
A single brow arched. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Killer?”