Page 23 of Sweet Sinners
If he wanted me dead, he wouldn’t have to be so patient about it.
I take the first bite, the flavor melting on my tongue, rich and perfectly spiced. Without thinking, a small, involuntary moan slips past my lips.
The room goes utterly still.
Behind me, something clatters sharply—metal hitting wood—and I snap my head up.
Connor.
He’s standing by the sink, completely frozen. His fingers flex, knuckles white against the countertop like he’s fighting to hold himself back.
And his eyes—God,thoseeyes—lock onto mine, dark and blazing with an intensity that sends a dangerous rush through my veins.
The air thickens between us, turning electric, charged with something I refuse to name. My body reacts before my mind catches up, heat creeping over my skin, burning along my throat.
Connor’s gaze drops to my mouth, and instinctively, my tongue slips out to chase the lingering taste of spice. Without thinking, my thumb follows, tracing my lower lip, slow and deliberate.
He shifts slightly, his chest rising on a sharp inhale.
“Jesus,” he breathes, low and strained.
My stomach tightens, flipping dangerously.
I should say something—anything—but my mind short-circuits under the intensity of his stare. Dark and possessive. Like he wants something. Like maybe, for just a second, he’s forgotten exactly who we are to each other.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to break the silence. “This is…really good,” I admit, my voice softer than intended.
He steps forward, the dim kitchen lighting catching the strong line of his jaw, the way his shirt stretches tight across his chest. “So you’re actually eating what I cooked,” he says quietly, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
I nod, dipping my spoon into the bowl again, deliberately taking another bite, letting him watch.
His gaze fixes on my lips again. “Finally realized I wouldn’t poison you?”
I freeze for half a second—shit, sohe noticed that.
Recovering quickly, I hold his stare, swallowing slowly. “If you were going to kill me, Connor, I doubt you’d waste good food doing it.”
His lips twitch slightly, fighting back a smirk that doesn’t fully form. He remains quiet a beat too long, his eyes heavy on me.
When the silence starts to stretch thin again, I tilt my head, drawling, “You might as well take a picture if you’re going to stare that hard.”
The words land between us, hotter than they should, loaded withsomethingdangerous.
Connor’s head tilts just a fraction, amusement glinting briefly, as if he's trying to keep something hidden beneath. His voice dips lower, almost a whisper. “Yeah. A picture.” His gaze drags over me deliberately, slowly, leaving heat in its wake. “That’s exactly what I need.”
A shiver runs straight through me, uninvited and undeniably strong, leaving my pulse racing. My breath catches, fingers tightening around the spoon. I tell myself I’m overthinking this, reading far too much into his words.
But the heat in his eyes says I’m not.
I should be focusing on why he’s here. Why he’s under house arrest, the unanswered questions hanging heavy between us.
But right now, all I can think about is him.
And that?
That might be the most dangerous thing of all.
Chapter twelve
