Page 313 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Maybe a little.”
“Mmm.” He nuzzles my neck, breathing me in. “They’ll have to wait until after dinner.”
“Did I forget we had plans?”
“No. But I thought we could use some alone time. It’s been a while since this house didn’t have my men or family walking the halls.” He pulls back to meet my gaze. “It’s just the two of us tonight and the food has already been delivered.”
He kisses me, slow and gentle. He plays docile for the sweetest moment before palming my ass in a tight grip, his fingers digging into my flesh. He deepens the connection, swiping his tongue over mine, an animalistic rumble emanating from his throat.
“You taste like alcohol.” He speaks against my lips. “Did this bakery also have a wine bar?”
Shit.
I chuckle to hide my panic. “There may have been a quaint new establishment near the bakery that I couldn’t resist.”
He inches back, one brow raised. “Are you turning into an alcoholic, little fox?”
“It was one glass.” I push away from his chest with a smile and walk inside, my heels tapping against the tiles. I don’t stop until I reach the open living and dining area, my feet rooting in place at the sight before me.
The elegant dining table is already set with cutlery and crockery, three candles flickering in the center beside polished wine glasses.
“Should I be apologizing for missing an anniversary?” I ask as Cole passes to continue into the kitchen.
“Not that I know of.” He grabs two Chinese takeout containers from the counter and a bottle of wine from the fridge,then carries them to the table. “This is to get us back on track. We’ve been at each other’s throats lately and it’s time that stopped.”
He’s being romantic. Thoughtful. While I just returned from a secret meeting with a man he despises.
“Thank you.” I walk toward him, placing my baked goods and handbag on the kitchen counter.
Cole pulls out my chair, always the chivalrous murderer, and waits until I’m seated before helping me scoot closer to the table. “You’re more than welcome, Nis.” His words are a bare whisper as he looms over me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before taking the seat to my left. “So tell me about this wine bar.”
Regret floods my veins while he hands me a takeout container. “There’s not much to tell. I honestly can’t even remember the name. It was just a quiet place with cheap booze.”
“I tried calling you.” He pops the cork on the wine and pours me a glass, calm, composed, but the subtle hint of menace lingers on the faintest edge of my awareness.
“I must have left my phone upstairs.” I open the Chinese container to find my favorite Szechuan beef inside. “I didn’t realize until I was on my way home.”
He rests back in his chair, palming his drink, his eyes narrowed. “This is why we keep fighting, little fox. You continue to place yourself in danger, and I keep worrying you’ll end up in pieces at the bottom of the river. Then we raise our voices to argue what we think is best, but neither of us win… unless you count the make-up sex.”
My body flushes with heat at the reminder of all those anger-fueled bedroom sessions, but the lust quickly fades. “I need freedom, Cole.”
“And I need transparency.” He places the glass back down on the table and reaches for his takeout container, dumping the contents on his plate. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
I bite my tongue against another snapping retort and drag in a slow breath. “I’ve kept myself safe for a damn long time. I don’t require you or your men to watch over me.”
“What if I require it to be able to sleep at night?”
“Are you not sleeping because of me?”
He grabs his fork and twists it into his spicy noodles. “I’ve barely slept a wink since you walked into my life. Tonight will be no different.”
I shake my head, not understanding. He’s lived with threats hanging over him since birth. Over his family. Over his loved ones.
“You don’t treat your sisters like this.” I stab a piece of beef and shove it into my mouth. “You don’t dictate what they can and can’t do.”
“I assure you I do. The difference is that they learned the rules and chose to obey them a long time ago.”
“I’m not a child.” Resentment enters my tone.
