Page 69 of Wrath
“I’m a vegetarian.”
He grew even more alarmed. “Are you joking?”
Laughter burst from her so hard she had to hold her belly. He must have thought she was joking, because he began to laugh too, shaking his head incredulously as he unpacked the pounds of sausage, bacon and some other nameless meat.
“I’m not.” Her laughter died. “I’m not joking. I really am a vegetarian.”
All humor dropped from his face until he deadpanned. When it was clear she wasn’t kidding, he exhaled in a huff and blew out through his teeth. “Fuck.”
“Is that a deal breaker?”
“No. No. It’s just that…” He stared at the groceries with devastation. “We really are opposites. What am I going to do with all this sausage?”
“Eat it.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Why would I mind?”
He shrugged. “Some people mind.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not like most people.” She sidled up to him and tipped up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “But just so we’re clear, the only sausage I want in my mouth is yours.”
He snorted, but his eyes turned dark and darted down to her lips before lifting again. The message was unmistakable:I want you.
She traced her fingers gently down his back, around his waistband to the front, and tugged until their bodies were flush.
When his words came out, they were deep and rough. “So… omelet?”
Misha released him and then hopped up onto the granite bench and smiled. She picked out an apple and bit into it. Juicy goodness exploded in her mouth. “Nah. Eggs are like baby meat.”
“Heaven help me now.” He prayed to the ceiling, and she laughed. Teasing him was so much fun. “Pancakes?” he offered.
A moan caught in her throat, almost making her choke on the apple. “Yes, please.”
For the next few minutes, she watched him move about the kitchen while she nibbled on her apple. He was incredible. Confident. Talented. Goddamned sexy. Even the way he casually tossed the towel over his shoulder while he flipped the pancakes in the pan had her heart hammering. Little beads of sweat dotted his top lip, and he had a look about him that was both passionate and focused. Seeing him all eager to cook and feed her was the most arousing thing she’d faced in years. She wanted to stop him, tear his clothes off and have her way with him right there on the kitchen floor.
“Um, Wyatt?” she asked quietly.
Enthralled with his cooking, he grunted, stirred something in a pot, and then enthusiastically lifted the spoon to her lips, expectantly watching her reaction.
She tentatively touched her tongue to the spoon and the berry flavor exploded in her mouth. She snatched the spoon and licked the lot, moaning. “Oh my God that’s amazing. Where did you learn to cook?”
Wyatt’s sultry gaze locked with hers before he collected the spoon and wrenched it back to the pot. “France.”
“Right. Well. You’re gifted.”
“I know.”
Her lips curved, and she became entranced by the way his defined forearms flexed as he whisked.
He shot her a sideways glance. “What were you going to say?”
“I… um.” She went all shy. “I was going to say that you were right, too.”
“I was?”
“Yes. About me going tonight.”
