Page 10 of Desert Loyalties
“I did.”
“You spanked me.”
“I did,” he says again, this time with a smirk that should be illegal.
I glare.
He holds the bag closer. The scent of salty, hot, golden fries punches me in the gut and I swear my stomachwhimpers.
I glance toward the door weighing my options, then back at him before snatching the bag from his hand. “Only reason you’re not bleeding right now is because of these fries.”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, that damn satisfied smirk still on his lips. “I’ll take it.”
I sit on the couch, practicallyinhalingthe fries. They’re hot. Crispy. Perfect. The burger is even better. My brain short-circuits from the salt, the meat, the melted cheese. I don’t even care that I’m stuffing my face in front of Mandrake.
He watches me in silence for a minute. Not talking. Just... watching. Like he’s memorizing how I look with my cheeks full and my hair sticking to my sweaty forehead.
“Why’d you do all this?” I mumble through a bite.
His voice drops low. Serious. “Because you needed someone to.”
I look at him and he’s not smiling now. Not smirking. Just watching me with those sharp eyes and that steady presence that’s always felt too big for any room.
“You think nobody sees you,” he says quietly. “But I do.”
And that? That hits harder than anything else tonight.
I take another fry just to keep my hands busy. But my heart’s racing now, and it’s got nothing to do with the salt or the grease.
“Eat,” he says again, softer now. “Then we’ll talk.”
I chew slowly, watching him as he flops down beside me like we do this every night. In true dude fashion, he inhales his burger in two massive bites, then immediately starts eyeing my fries. I slap his hand away with a glare.
He just smirks. Doesn’t even have the decency to look sorry. But I glance at the fries, realizing there’s enough to feed threepeople, and sigh. Grudgingly, I nudge the bag toward him. “Fine. But touch my burger and I’ll bite your hand off.”
“That’s fair,” he says with a straight face, but he’s already digging in, and for a second, it almost feels normal. Almost. Until it doesn’t.
“Why’d you bring me up here?” I ask, wiping my fingers on a napkin.
He leans back, ankles crossed, like he’s settling in for a long night. “Figured we could use the privacy.”
I blink.
“The fuck?” I ask, not bothering to hide my tone. “So, you ignore me for ayear, scare off every man who even breathes near me, and now what? You think feeding me a burger and fries gives you the right to haul me up to, wherever this is, lock the damn door, and act like you’ve earned the right to... to doprivatethings with me?”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“This is my room,” he says calmly. “In the officers’ quarters.”
I freeze, the weight of that hitting all at once. My fingers still on the napkin. My breath stuck somewhere in my chest.
“No, it’s not,” I say, voice dropping. “You only bring... you only bringfamilyup here. Or...”
I trail off.
His expression softens just enough to ruin me.
“Yeah,” he says. “Figured it’s about time I feed my old lady and ask her what’s bothering her.”
