Page 17 of Of Grief And Gratitude

My fingers brushed hers as I handed her the tumbler, and my abs clenched at the shot of electricity that flowed between us. “I took it out after the media storm.”

“Really?” She sipped the amber liquid and lifted her brows in surprise.

“No.” A genuine laugh burst from my lips, and I downed half my glass in one swallow. Maybe the woman wasn’t so bad after all. She just needed to loosen up a little. I tipped my glass toward hers. “Finish your drink.”

“I haven’t had dinner. It’s going to go straight to my head,” Riona sighed.

“Sometimes that’s not the worst thing.” Fuck knew I could use the escape. Manners ingrained in me by my mother dictated that I feed the woman standing next to me. “Take a seat at the bar, and I’ll throw together some sandwiches.”

She held up a hand but sat on the leather stool at the counter. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m not that hungry.”

I fished the ingredients out of the refrigerator and leveled her with a look. “It’s a little deli meat. Not a five-course dinner, boomer.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t be such an old lady.”

“Don’t be such a spoiled brat.”

“Get rid of the stick up your ass.” I smirked. “Boomer.”

Riona threw up her hands. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You know what I think?” Her body swayed toward me as I leaned close over the counter. She didn't seem to notice. “I think you like it.”

It didn’t take long to pull out a couple of plates, assemble basic sandwiches, and push one plate over to Riona, who ate with surprising gusto for somebody who claimed they weren’t hungry. She’d shown enough of the person she hid under that strict exterior that I wanted to find more. While she finished her sandwich, I refilled our glasses; this time, she didn’t object to drinking.

It wasn’t long before her shoulders relaxed, and she looked at me with a cautious grin. “I don’t suppose you have dessert?”

“What’s your poison?” I opened the freezer and revealed a selection of ice cream. “Fudge brownie, chocolate chip, basic vanilla?”

“I can’t believe you eat anything that isn’t organic or doesn’t have protein powder added,” she said drily.

“You don’t have to deprive yourself of good food to stay fit,” I pointed out. I started to close the freezer door. “But if I’m not supposed to have ice cream, I’m not sharing, either.”

“No!” Riona held a hand out to stop me, and my eyes zeroed in on her perfectly manicured nails. She had delicate, slender fingers that would look amazing wrapped around my—no. She cleared her throat. “Fudge brownie.”

“Coming right up.” I pulled two bowls from the cupboard and grabbed spoons, dishing up generous portions. The alcohol warmed my blood, and the weed made the world look a little brighter.

“Fuck, this is good,” Riona practically moaned as she took a big bite of the fudge brownie ice cream.

“Mhmm.” I stared at her lips as they wrapped around the spoon, watched her eyes close in ecstasy as she ate the next bite, then flicked her tongue across the metal. She giggled, and I realized she’d caught me staring.

I shifted so she wouldn’t see my erection if she looked down. “Feeling better?”

“A bit, yeah.” She shoved more ice cream into her mouth and moaned again. Fuck, she was going to kill me.

“Good.”

She rolled her shoulders. “How much alcohol until my back muscles give in and I can turn into a boneless puddle?”

It was like the universe had presented me with the perfect opportunity to find out what Riona’s ivory skin felt like. “Come with me.”

“If you try to pull me away from this ice cream, I’ll geld you with the spoon,” she threatened with another laugh.

“Fine, finish then.” I washed my bowl and left it in the sink, then took hers when she’d finally put the last of the torturously sensual bites between her lips. “Now, come with me.”

“Are you taking me to your sex dungeon?” Riona quipped as I led her to my massage room.

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