Page 50 of Make You Mine

But I can’t stop watching him.

Jesus, I am a mess for this man. Broke first.

Swallowing, I grin at him. Keep it as normal as possible. “Is it good?”

“That was motherfucking fantastic, sweetheart,” Elijah groans, patting his sculpted abs after placing his fork down. “I’m going to need to up my workouts with you living here.”

I’m trying hard not to read too much into that statement, but I can’t help the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Acknowledge how easy it would be to give in to my desires and...

“Favorite color?”

He says out of nowhere and I arch a brow, head tilting to the side. “What?”

“Come on, sweetheart, humor me here.” His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners; he’s amused. “This is a first-date protocol, and small talk is mandatory. I already told you this.”

“You mean you don’t appreciate my preference for quiet meals?” My mock indignation isn’t fooling anyone. Neither are the goosebumps rising on my arms as his declaration of this being a date sets in.

First date. Meaning there could be more:

Kisses. Touches. Eventually bending me over?—

“We both know you were admiring the view.” Cocky. A little flirtation.

“Was not.” I lift my chin high while denying it. “But if you insist, we do this rapid-fire style.”

“And we take turns.”

“Sounds like a plan.” My tone is still a bit snooty as I take a sip from my wine glass. The sweet notes from the Riesling pair perfectly with the richness of the sauces. A delicious balance. “And to answer your question, I’m a purple and black girly through and through.”

“That’s two colors, Ava,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “Pick one.”

“That, Detective, is a lie,” I counter, narrowing my eyes. Lips in a pout. “If we treat it like an ombre, it’s just one.”

“That’s cheating.” He laughs, rolling his eyes at me. It’s good to see him like this, relaxed and enjoying himself. Since I’ve been here, all he does is work, exercise, and then back to work. Rinse and repeat. Providing this brief break for the man who’s vowed to protect me, filled his kitchen with everything I could need to bake, and appreciates said food...

No words. Just pure pleasure.

“You haven’t answered.” I tease.

“Blue.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s such a guy answer.”

“It’s also the color of your eyes.”

Fuck. Me.

I almost say it, too, but choose to behave instead. “Favorite go-to meal when feeling lazy?”

His stare is smoldering, almost as if he heard my earlier thought. There’s a hint of a challenge there, too. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Bagel pizza.” And yeah, I take another drink from my glass. Multiple little sips. “Right side of the bed or left?”

“Always the right,” he answers quickly and leans closer, his knee brushing against mine. His scent wraps around me like a velvet stroke across my senses. “Unless you want to?—”

“Left,” I interject, cutting him off from whatever temptation he was going to throw my way. Pushing my plate away, I sitback and finish my wine. For a few minutes, neither of us says anything, yet the ever-present electrical pulse that flows between us sizzles.

There’s no denying the wetness in my panties or the sensitivity of my skin, a heightened problem as my chest stretches the fabric of my small top. My nipples are throbbing stiff peaks, something my detective takes notice of right away. His Adam’s apple bobs, and the hand around his beer bottle clenches.

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