Page 35 of The More the Merrier

Instead of responding to my retorts, his gaze roams my body from top to toe. He then takes in the room around me before zeroing in on my bag.

“You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

This time, he just walks deeper into the room, grabbing my bag from the bed. He zips it up and turns back to me. “Cameron has headed back already. He needs to check on the security at the house.”

He stalks out the door and I follow behind, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling around in my stomach. Or maybe I’m just hungry because said stomach lets out a loud rumble.

“Did you eat?” he says, his voice a loud bark.

“Yes,” I snap back at him.

“What?”

When I don’t respond, he stops in his tracks just before reaching my front door to look back at me. His dark gaze zeroes in on me and I swallow down my nerves.

“I had some cookies.”

He grunts and turns back around. I—for the briefest of seconds—think I’ve won that round when he finally responds.

“We’ll fucking fix that, won’t we.”

Chapter 4

Zanya

I follow Johannes back into my kitchen area, a little annoyed at his comment. He walks up to the stove, where he stops and looks at me, beckoning me closer with a crook of his finger. I cock my eyebrow as I rest my one hand on my hip. Not a chance I’m just gonna run when he calls me to heel.

“Little Mouse, get your ass here right now. I’ll feed you before we go home.”

“You know, I have a name,” I say, although secretly I like the nickname. I would never admit it aloud, but what Little girl doesn’t dream about having a big strong Daddy calling them something special. Not that he’s a Daddy, or I’m something special, but a girl can dream. And fantasize. Dammit, maybe I should have taken more than one toy.

When I focus back on my kitchen, there’s a tense silence waiting for me. Now Johannes has the raised eyebrow, and I realise he must have said something while I was lost in thought.

“Excuse me?” I offer.

“You’ll be excused as soon as you answer my question and get your ass into this kitchen.”

As I don’t know what the heck he asked me and his tone frightensandexcites me, I opt to follow his second demand instead. When I walk into the kitchen, he grabs me by the hips and before I can shout out my protest, he has me perched on the kitchen counter.

I stare at this giant of a man trying to navigate the small space, and I have to suppress the snicker that’s threatening to escape. He’s rifling through cupboards and drawers, and the more this carries on, the louder his grumbling gets.

“Can I help you find something?”

“Do you have any actual fucking food in this place?”

Oh. Well.

“There might be some pasta in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

He heads over, grabs it and a couple of forgotten spice containers. Next, he opens the fridge and grabs a lonely lemon I was planning to enjoy with the tequila I have stored under the sink.

“Definitely need a keeper,” Johannes mumbles as he pops a pot of water on the stove to boil. Instead of arguing with him, I decide to go with a distraction instead.

“So,what are you making?”

Those dark eyes look straight at me, and he grunts before going back to his task.

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