Page 13 of Babydoll

When he says this, he stares at me pointedly and I feel a spike in my blood pressure. Both because I feel like he knows I’ve been naughty and because his words definitely come out a little growly.

I bet he’s growly in bed.

Rawr!

“Truce?” He extends his hand.

I eye it, then him, and finally take it with reluctance. His much larger hand envelops mine and an electric zing rushes through me. But before I can even get my bearings and shakeon our truce, I’m yanked forward and slammed against his deliciously hard chest.

I gasp at the wind being knocked out of me and feel his hand by my hip. I can’t decide if I’m scared or excited that my sexy fantasy from earlier might be coming true. But then I realize what he’s doing.

Busted.

“Get your damn hands—stop!” I yell. He steps back and his smile is confidently cocky. He’s holding the pudding cup up like a trophy.

Chapter Four

Lu

“Gotcha!” He tosses the cup up and catches it without taking his eyes off of mine. “This reason enough?”

My brow furrows and I frown. So busted.

“Shit.”

“Shit is right, thief. I saw it in your pocket as soon as I walked in, but I had my suspicions before.”

“You’re good,” I add, purposely lacing my words with boredom. “You pass the test.” I look down and fiddle with the garbage bag, trying to open the end, but when I sneak a glance up, I can’t help but swallow.

He crosses his arms, pudding still in hand, and rolls his eyes before pinning me with them. “Don’t even.”

“What?” I shrug, shaking the bag open with exaggeration. “I like to make sure the security around here is good.”

“Uh-huh.” He cocks his head, this time eyeing me from head to toe. And then he does something that makes my heart stutter. He uncrosses his arm and extends it, attempting to hand me the pudding. It throws me off, just like with the candy bars.

“Take it. I hate pudding.”

I stare at the pudding, blinking, my mouth turned down. I want to tell him to shove his pudding up his ass; Lu takes charity from no one… except for the candy bars, but I earned them…

Yeah right, by being a good girl?

Suddenly my stomach makes the loudest growling noise I’ve ever heard and I swallow thickly. I’m famished. Beyond famished. Think forty-days-lost-at-sea starved. Except it’s actually been months. And all I’ve had is pudding, the food Python brings me on payday, and the occasional donut when the boss at my day job brings them into the staff room.

“It’s yours?” I point. “You’re Sharpie Jeff?” My voice is ripe with disbelief. How on earth could someone as hot as SSD also be pudding Jeff?

“Er… if you mean it’s my name written in sharpie on the pudding lid, then yes.” His brow furrows. “Sharpie Jeff? You don’t actually call me that, do you?”

“Uh, no.” I look sideways and scratch my eyebrow. “I call you something entirely different, actually.” I look up and my gaze sharpens on his face. “If you hate pudding so much, why do you have it in your lunch every day?” My words are crusty and accusing and my hands fly to my hips. Searching his ring finger, I continue. “Doesn’t your girlfriend know you’re a pudding hater?” God, I sound like a brat.

His mouth curves up on the right.

“What do you call me then?” His grin deepens. “And I don’t have a girlfriend.” He looks down at his left hand then too. “Or a wife.” He holds it up and wiggles those long, thick fingers.

Long and thick. I bet they’re masterful.

It’s amazing when you’re in the end of times, well, my end of times anyway, how much your base instincts are on the forefront. Food and sex basically haunt me. All. The. Time.

Steak and beefcake.

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