Page 73 of Heroes & Hitmen
“Shut up,” I mutter, still trying to hide behind my mug. I’m now thinking about last night in a whole new context, though– realizing how I came more and more undone as those filthy, delicious words fell from his lips.
Fuck, he’s not wrong. I totally have a praise kink.
I take another gulp of coffee as I try to re-center, hoping my face isn’t half as red as it feels right now. Meanwhile, Ares scoops a bite of eggs onto a fork, stepping over and holding it to my mouth.
“Taste.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”
He smirks. “Just want to make sure they’re cooked how you like them. Open up.”
I roll my eyes, but open my mouth and let him feed me the bite. I chew slowly, refusing to break eye contact as he watches me. And dammit, the eggs are perfect.
“See?” Ares asks, grinning. “I knew you’d be a good girl for me.”
I cough as I try to swallow, shoving him away with a laugh. “You are such a jackass.”
He shrugs, completely unrepentant, then saunters back over to the stove to scoop the rest of the eggs onto a plate.
I can’t help myself. I look down at his powerfully muscled thighs, at the firm globes of his ass in those tight black boxer briefs. It’s actually unfair how attractive he is.And in a pink apron, no less.
“You know you look ridiculous in that thing, right?” I scoff when he catches me staring.
He smooths a palm down the front of the apron, winking. “You don’t think it’s sexy?”
“Not as sexy as you think it is, but you do you.”
“You’d look better in it,” he says, licking his lips as he undresses me with his eyes. “And nothing else.”
Color blooms hot on my cheeks. He smiles at me, admiring his work, and my heart skips a beat as I realize something with startling clarity.
Ilikethis. I likehim.
Shit.
I busy myself by pouring another cup of coffee as Ares plates up the eggs, adds the bacon, and for the grand finale, pulls a pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven. I start salivating when he adds the gooey white icing to the top of one and serves it up on another plate, then brings the entire haul around to kitchen peninsula, sliding onto a stool. “Come sit.”
“Don’t you dare think you can order me around now,” I huff, but I’m already moving in his direction, that cinnamon roll calling to me like a siren’s song.
The sugar addiction is real.
Ares smirks as I take a seat beside him, the apron still on. At this point, he’s obviously just messing with me. He starts shoveling eggs into his mouth at an alarming pace, wolfing them down like an animal.
“So,” he says between mouthfuls, “I’m gonna talk to my brother this week about that thing we discussed. His Beta spent some time here in Chicago, so I’m gonna see if he knows anyone who can hook you up with a new ID and whatever paperwork you need to start fresh.”
I blink, caught off guard by the sharp turn in conversation and how businesslike he’s suddenly being. So much so that it takes me a beat to catch up, my mind tripping over itself.
“Oh, thatthing,” I echo, nodding dumbly. “Yeah, cool.”
He glances up, clocking my tone immediately. “What’s up?”
I hesitate, rolling my lower lip between my teeth as I consider how there’s a new player in this game I haven’t yet made him aware of. At a loss for how to ease him into the idea, I decide to just rip off the bandage.
“Can you make it two IDs?” I ask, tone deceptively casual. “Jordan wants to come, too.”
Ares freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Your sister?”
“No, my pet goldfish,” I deadpan. “Yes, my sister.”
