Page 110 of Concealed

I don’t ask the question because it’s another huge step, but he squeezes my knee.

“When are we going? We can visit Gabe, too.”

Anticipation flitters through me and makes my stomach positively flutter. “I’ll plan something while we’re both unemployed bums. It will be easier to get away without the demands of work.”

When we’re finally back at home, the first thing I want to do is climb Wyatt and let him take me to bed so that I can forget everything that just happened in Vegas.

But first, we need food.

There’s a gigantic mess on the floor from when Matt accosted me. The house also smells like a drunken frat party, but Wyatt and I both step over the glass. Cleaning up can wait until we’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

I head over to the fridge and fill my arms with all the fixings I’ll need for epic sandwiches, and unceremoniously dump everything on the kitchen island.

Wyatt leans a hip against the counter and watches me, heat building on my skin from his steady appraisal. He makes me feel sexy and desired no matter what I’m doing.

“My first job was a sandwich artist,” I tell him, popping bread into the toaster before I start slicing vegetables.

He bursts out laughing, and I toss a piece of pepper at him.

“Was that your official title, or are you making shit up?” he asks.

“My uniform shirt said it,” I confirm. “What was your first job?”

“Roofing during high school summers. Not a ton of fun in the city heat,” he returns. “Are you trying to get to know me before you let me fuck you? You’re a bit behind the eight ball, babe, because I’ve already tasted every inch of you.”

My hand pauses in the middle of slicing a tomato. “You’ve got access to my body on lock. But yeah, I want to know everything. It’s like… I know so much about you in terms of day-to-day life, how you react to situations, and the kind of man that you are. But I don’t know enough about your history to satisfy me.”

“Well, I can’t leave my woman unsatisfied. Ask me five rapid-fire questions. And go.”

“Favorite book,” I ask.

“To Kill A Mockingbird.”

“Solid choice. Mine is Pride and Prejudice. Favorite movie?”

“Fight Club.”

I groan. “Please tell me that you didnotjust say that.”

He chuckles. “I was kidding. Though I do like that movie. But it’s actually The Godfather.”

“That’s acceptable. Mine is Red River. What was the moment that changed your life?” I ask, moving on to slicing red onions.

“When my mom died and I got stuck with the parent who hates me. I moved out within three months.”

“How old were you?”

“That counts as a question.”

I roll my eyes. “Suddenly Rambo is a stickler for the rules. It does not count because it’s a follow-up and those are allowed.”

“If it means I can fuck you sooner, I’ll play along. I was seventeen.”

Somehow, even asking Wyatt questions is foreplay, and I’m hyperaware of his gaze all over my body while we talk. Knowing that his hands and mouth will soon be following his eyes has me shivering.

“The moment that changed my life was when I met you,” I tell him.

Wyatt groans. “Shit. That’s what I should have said. And it would be true. But–”

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