Page 52 of King of Obsession

In the end, my practicality won out. ‘I won’t say no to an extra pair of hands,’ I allowed.

He nodded, something like satisfaction flickering over his face. We returned to the task, the silence between us less strained.

The temperature became oppressive as the sun rose, baking the shingles beneath us. I wiped my brow with the back of my hand, smearing gritty granules of sand and tar across my skin.

‘Time for a break,’ he announced, easing himself upright with a slight wince. ‘I’ll rustle us up some lunch.’

I opened my mouth to protest that I wasn’t hungry, but my stomach let out a mortifying growl at that moment.

Heat that had nothing to do with the weather rushed to my cheeks.

He smirked, a glimmer of amusement shining in his eyes. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

So he had a sense of humor under his fuckin’ brooding facade.

It was refreshing to witness, for it meant he also had a heart beating beneath that tight, muscled chest.

He navigated back down the ladder, my gaze on his taut ass, admiring the fluid grace of his movements despite his obvious discomfort.

It set off a mini fantasy in my mind, the heat and hazy weather adding to my fervor.

Lost in lust, I almost missed the enticing aroma wafting up from below. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee mingled with something savory and rich. My mouth watered in anticipation.

He reappeared bearing a tray one-armed, laden with a platter of sandwiches and two steaming mugs.

‘Cleo,’ he growled, striding toward a log in my garden without waiting for my reply.

I descended, tracking to the outdoor sink to wash my hands.

I found him sitting on one of the alfresco benches. One thigh crossed over his knee, mug in one hand, fist cradling his chow.

The subs were simple but appetizing - thick slices of fried steak, cheese, and crisp lettuce stacked between hearty whole-grain bread.

The brew surprised me. It was a flawless macchiato, with espresso and crema layered in the glass vessel.

‘How did you -?’ I trailed off, gesturing to the heavenly creation.

He shrugged, lips curling. ‘I noted you had a machine in the kitchen. Thought you might appreciate something a little fancier than plain black espresso.’

I took a sip, letting the velvety foam coat my tongue. It was delicious, the espresso’s bitterness balanced by creamy sweetness.

‘It’s perfect,’ I murmured. ‘Thank you.’

His eyes met mine, heated and unfathomable. ‘You’re welcome, mia sola.’

The endearment slipped out, so natural, it took me a moment to register it. I glanced away, busying myself with grabbing a sandwich.

As we ate in companionable silence, I couldn’t help sneaking glances at him from the corner of my eye. The dappled sunlight played across the planes of his face, highlighting the gold threading through his hair.

His tongue peeked out from his lips, and I bit back a groan.

‘Like what you see, cara?’

The drawl threw me. As did his following words.

‘You’d like it more if I was over you, inside you, loving you. Making you cum.’

I jolted. ‘Are you hardwired to speak shit, or do you have some kind of verbal diarrhea ailment you’d like to share?’

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