Page 14 of Sweet Possession
Why the fuck had I told Sav and Nash that I’d be able to cope on myown and they didn’t need to come over? It hadn’t occurred to me that Cora would need breakfast.
I didn’t know if she’d eaten the dinner Sav took up to her last night,and it was taking everything in me to not barge into her room to check her tray was empty. But I promised her I’d give her time, and damn it, I was going to stick to my word.
“What the hell am I doing wrong?”I said, flicking over the page of therecipe book, hoping there was an answer to all my problems somewhere, only to find the start of a different recipe.
I slammed it closed, more than happy to shove the book back in thecupboard where it’d lived since I first moved in, and let it collect more dust. I didn’t even know why I had it; I wasn’t a fucking cook.
“I think you have the heat too high,”a timid voice said, shocking theabsolute shit out of me.
My head whipped up to find Cora standing awkwardly in the doorwaywearing my t-shirt and joggers,her hands fidgeting nervously. She’d tied a knot in the side of the shirt and rolled the waistband of the joggers over several times revealing a flash of olive skin at her waist, but the clothes still drowned her petite frame.
Christ, she looked good in my clothes.
Really fucking good.
But why was she wearing them? Did she not like the clothes Savbrought her?
“I’m too impatient to cook on a low heat,”I said, trying my hardest toact casual, and not make a big deal out of the fact that not only had she willingly emerged from her room, but she’d also spoken to me for the first time.
And fuck, was I instantly addicted to her sweet voice. I wanted to hearit again.
I wanted to hear it until the day I died.
“You must eat a lot of burned food then,”she replied, giving me a coysmile and making my heart start galloping like a damn racehorse.
“You can probably tell I don’t do a whole heap of cooking, I tend tolive on takeaways,”I said, throwing the remnants of the burned pancake into the trash.
“I can do it,”she said meekly, taking a tentative step into the kitchen.“If you want, that is,”she added, unsure of herself.
“You don’t have to do that,”I replied quickly, wanting her to knowshe wasn’t here to be my servant inanyway.
“I don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking.”
She enjoyed cooking. I stored that little nugget of information away,grateful she’d offered something about herself.
“Be my guest then,”I said as I rinsed the pan and put it back on thestove before stepping to the other side of the island to give her space. But I couldn’t take my eyes from her as she crossed the room, needing to be sure she wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
Reaching the island where the bowl of batter sat, she picked thespoon up and let out a little giggle.
“Erm, this is way too runny,”Cora said, trying to keep the amusementoff her face.
“Been here less than two days, and you’re already busting my balls.”Igrinned at her to let her know I was messing, and to my relief, she giggled again.
Fuck knows what Sav said to her when she went to Cora’s roomyesterday, but it seemed to have worked wonders.
“I can’t use this.”She wrinkled her button nose in disgust asthe batter dripped from the spoon back into the bowl.“Have you got some more ingredients?”
“Sure.”
As I gathered all the ingredients for the fourth time, Cora washed outthe bowl, and the two of us fell into a comfortable silence. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye as she dried the bowl, noticing how her body wasn’t as tense.
For the first time since I first brought Cora home, hope bloomed in mychest. Now, I just had to prove to her that she could trust me.
Quietly, Cora began to pour flour and eggs into the bowl as I took myseat again at the island. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she added ingredients without the need for the cookbook telling her what to do. I watched her work, doing my damned hardest to ignore my cocktwitching every time the hint of her olive skin peeked out from where the t-shirt was tied at her waist.
Fuck sake, I was a thirty-two-year-old man who’d fucked alotofwomen, not a fifteen-year-old about to lose his virginity for the first time. The hint of her skin should not have been making my cock want to turn to steel.
Surely, I had more control than that?
