Page 72 of Gluttony
She looked through the empty martini glass. The counter behind was all warped. “Every evening since that accident, I make a Cosmo and then set it on the bench. I walk past it and give it daggers. In my head, I argue with it. I tell the drink it won’t beat me. I leave it there, proving that I can resist, then I tip it out in the morning.”
“But you’ve never drunk it?”
“No, I haven’t.” She put the glass back where it belonged. “This is why I was so rude to you when we met. This mate thing… it feels like a choice that’s been forced on me. And”—she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly—“You reminded me of everything I was resisting.”
He folded his arms defensively. His focus turned inward and looked down at his feet.
“But not anymore, Tony,” she assured him. “You don’t represent that anymore.”
Closing the gap, she went to him and touched his unshaven jaw.
Raw vulnerability flashed in his eyes and he touched his lips to hers. “I don’t want to be that for you,” he murmured against them. “I don’t want to be that person, period.”
“I believe you.” She deepened their kiss. He tasted suspiciously sweet. “Have you sampled the syrup already?”
A guilty look flashed across his expression. “I couldn’t wait.”
Amused, she tasted him again. “You love eating, don’t you?”
“I love this—” he glanced around the kitchen at the mess she’d made. “I love sharing my life with you.” Then he shot her a brazen smirk. “Plus I like eating. Do you know I have to dehydrate myself before a naked torso shoot so my skin thins and shows the shape of my muscle beneath?”
“Good Lord, that’s rough, and coupled with your sin’s restrictions, I understand how consuming unfettered would seem like a dream.”
“Pity I have to work it all off later.”
“I think maybe I could help with that.” She gave him a wink.
Two eyes of molten lust flared with interest, but she held up a finger. “First, food and juice, and then we should probably speak with your family about last night. Do you know if they found your sister? And didn’t your brother want to speak with you some more?”
“Party pooper.”
Together they set up breakfast on the balcony cane settee. Tony flinched when Bailey took her first bite of waffle, and it hit her… maybe this was why he didn’t date. Every meal was torture with someone. He’d feel sick being around gluttony. So she reached for him with her bare foot under the table. When she connected with his ankle, his surprised gaze warmed her. She became bolder and slid her foot up, then hooked around and entwined their legs. For a moment, time stood still as they stared into each other’s eyes.
He knew she didn’t like being pressured into doing anything.
She knew he didn’t like feeling vulnerable.
But they accepted this.
Without a word, he relaxed and made short work of wolfing down his waffles while she ate. When the last morsel was gone, he immediately jumped up and invited her back to the bedroom.
“Tony,” she said, leaning back on her cane chair. “Sit down.”
“Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?” He winked. “Are you the headmistress and I’m the naughty schoolboy?”
She laughed. “Maybe some other time. I think you’re avoiding speaking about your family. Come on.” She patted the spot next to her on the cane sofa. “I shared with you, now it’s your turn.”
Resigned, he sat down and stared broodily at two birds flying in the blue sky. Eventually, he said, “Parker thinks I can’t live in two worlds.”
“You mean the acting and the... um... crime-fighting?”
“He’s right.”
She didn’t know if she should have an opinion on that, so stayed silent.
“My agent is putting pressure on me to accept more roles where I need to leave the city, and I can’t. Not while the Syndicate is still causing havoc. I’ve already held up production too much with my irregular hours. I’m not building a good rep. The rehab didn’t help.”
“And if the Syndicate were gone, what would you do?”
