Page 88 of A Smile Full of Lies
My mouth went dry.
She didn’t hear me. Didn’t see me. Had no idea she was kneecapping my fucking self-control just by existing.
It was domestic as hell… dangerous as hell.
I wasn’t used to anyone being here when I got home. I sure as fuck wasn’t used tothis: a girl in my sweatshirt, in my kitchen, cookingfor me.
It did things to me. Sharp, dangerous things.
The same girl who’d come for me against the door of my childhood bedroom last night, who’d whispered that she wished it had beenme, was here, barefoot in my kitchen, making my favorite fucking soup like she belonged.
I hadn’t even been home for five full minutes, and I already wanted to take her apart. I moved slow and silent — part predator, part man barely holding it together — as I stepped fully into the kitchen.
“That smells incredible.”
My voice was low, even. Rougher than I meant it to be.
Ros jumped slightly, her shoulders rising before she glanced over her shoulder. Her back tensed and she went still as she stared at me.
Good. She knew I was here now.
“Oh, hey.” Her smile wobbled. “I hope it’s okay. I figured since I’m invading your space and basically freeloading until I figure out how to fix my life, I’d at least cook for you. It’s nothing fancy. Just… minestrone.”
I let my silence hang for a beat longer than necessary. Her lips parted, eyes narrowing slightly. She wasn’t sure if she’d overstepped.
I stepped closer.
“You made my favorite,” I said, voice steady, deliberate. “You didn’t even ask. You just knew.”
She blinked, caught.
“I mean… I remembered you said something about liking it once, maybe back in college. I didn’t know it was your favorite.”
Liar.
Her cheeks flushed. She turned back to the stove, stirring like it gave her something to do with her hands.
I stepped up behind her, close but not touching.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I murmured. “You already cooked once this week.”
Ros kept her eyes on the pot.
“I wanted to.”
I smiled, slow and dark.
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
“It’s the least I could do. I’m living here rent-free. You’ve done so much for me?—”
I leaned down just enough to let my breath skate across her bare shoulder.
“That doesn’t mean I expect payment in soup.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
