Page 33 of Broken Pieces
She looks at me like I've grown three more heads. “No, that's okay. I can eat tomorrow. I'm beat anyway.”
“Aria…” I hesitate for a moment before I decide to be more assertive. “Sit.Now.”
With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she lets out a sigh but obediently takes a seat at the kitchen island.
Good girl.
I meet her gaze briefly before turning my back to start on the food. She remains quiet, the air charged with that same familiar tension that hangs between us whenever we're in close proximity. We remain quiet for the most part, both of usprobably a little too exhausted to keep up with the banter.
As I’m finishing the plating, Aria walks up to the fridge and takes two bottles of water, then sits back down as I place one of the finished plates in front of her.
She nods. “A grilled cheese and tomato soup? Consider me impressed.”
I nod and take a bite myself, savoring the simple, yet delicious, flavor. “I love grilled cheese,” I admit before taking a sip of water.
She picks up the grilled cheese and dips it in the soup, and with an appreciative groan, she takes a generous bite. “Not sure why, but this is the best grilled cheese and tomato soup I've eaten.” She closes her eyes, savoring the taste.
Bowing sarcastically, I say, “You're welcome.”
There's something about her that I admire. She has a way of making the simplest things appear like a ray of sunshine. Who knew someone could look so beautiful eating something so simple? I’m engrossed in her beauty, the way her eyes roll every time she takes a bite and the way her lips hover over the spoon.
Fucking beautiful.
It seems that my eyes linger to the point that she notices.
She wipes her mouth with her thumb. “Do I have something on my face?”
She doesn’t, but I nod anyway as I get close to her and run my thumb across her perfect lips, a zip of electricityruns from my thumb to my cock. I shake my head and scoot backward suddenly, feeling startled by the spark. Her back stiffens, and her cheeks change to a light scarlet color, leaving a trace of red that emphasizes her beautiful freckles.
After our meal, she loads the dishwasher as I focus on cleaning the rest of the kitchen. Once she's finished, she starts the dishwasher and perches herself on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth. “Who knew you were such a good cook?” she teases.
I stand in front of her, rolling my eyes playfully. “You're hilarious. It was just grilled cheese and canned soup,” I reply, my tone dry.
She chuckles. “I can barely make eggs.”
“I can teach you.” My words come out before I have a moment to think.
Why am I looking for more ways to spend time with her? Seriously,what is wrong with me?
She perks up. “Really? You have time?”
Her eyes gleam with excitement, and that simple look tugs at my heart; grabbing hard and refusing to let go. How could I say no to her? She has no idea I’d do anything to see that smile more often.
I pick up a hand towel and dry my hands as I shrug. “Anything for you, Darling.”
She blushes and mumbles something along the lines ofGodandkilling me.
“Well, thank you for offering. I’ll take you up on it. Also, thanks for the food. It was really,reallygood.”
“So you said after groaning with pleasure,” I note with a hint of amusement.
She quips, “What can I say? I'm a sucker for good bread and cheese.”
As we chat and laugh, our proximity changes. She’s given me space to get closer, and I’ve moved into her space without even realizing it. The shift is gradual, but when we finally become aware of how close we are, a charged silence falls between us. I look down and I notice how her thighs are slightly open, giving me the space to get in between her legs, which apparently my subconscious took the offer of. Closing my eyes, I exhale to calm my breathing. A beat passes and I open my eyes, my gaze locking between her legs—again—and noticing her lacy underwear.
Her deep, red, lacy underwear.
God fucking dammit,I curse internally.
