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As if on cue again, my stomach rumbled audibly. Leo narrowed his eyes. “Mara, I’m going to make you something, and you’re going to eat it.”
The command made my heart falter, and I knew there was no getting out of this. So I made a show of rolling my eyes in protest before giving in, not wanting to come across as too easy for anything he might be dishing out tonight. “Okay, okay. I’ll eat your food.”
He hummed into his glass as he downed the rest of his champagne, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt the loss of his warmth as he stood, grabbing the bucket as he circled the table. “Let’s go,” he said, nodding toward the door that led back to the elevator.
“Wait,” I objected. “Now? We just got up here . . .”
“Mara,” he countered. “You’re hungry. And I can’t in good conscience continue to pour you Rudy’s top-shelf champagne knowing you’re drinking on an empty stomach. Come on,” he said, a touch of urgency slicing across his face. “We can resume this celebration downstairs.”
My gaze shifted to the edge of the roof, and I greedily took in the way the buildings glowed in the dark from the city’s lightshow below. A small wave of disappointment fluttered within at having to leave this incredible place, knowing I’d likely never be back. But I didn’t want to reveal those cards to Leo, didn’t want him to know how entranced I was. So with a small sigh I stood, clutching the blanket in one hand and my half-empty glass in the other.
Once we’d both stepped into the elevator’s heated car, Leo hit the PH button. As the elevator began to descend, he turned to look at me. “Is there anything you’re allergic to?”
“Antibiotics,” I answered.
“What?” It was clear I’d caught him off guard with that. “You’re allergic to antibiotics?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Gave my mom a real scare with my first ear infection when I was five. My throat closed and I couldn’t breathe—I was purple by the time I got to the ER.”
He stared at me for a long while, only speaking again after the elevator chimed. “But no food items?”
“Nope. No food. Just potentially life-saving medicine,” I teased, eager to smooth out the intensity on his face.
The doors opened, and this time there was a smaller cat with black and white fur waiting on the other side. Leo’s smile was instant. “Hey, Swift,” he cooed.
The cat—Swift—meowed, looking up at us with interest.
Leo stepped into his apartment. “Come, Mara. Swift won’t bite . . . She’s friendly. Though,” he hedged, looking back at me with a twinge of embarrassment, “Dolly might.”
“Oh,” I breathed, eyeing the small cat as she rubbed her neck against my ankles. “Okay, good.” I shook myself free and caught up to Leo as he rounded the corner back into his kitchen. As soon as I turned the same corner, another loud gasp burst out of my mouth.
Leo’s nose flared as his eyes darkened to smoke. “You really should stop doing that.” His voice was quiet and careful.
Heat pooled in my stomach. “I’m . . . sorry.” But I couldn’t help it. The kitchen was breathtaking. Sleek black marble with flecks of gold and white topped the counters and island, the cabinets climbed all the way up to the ceiling, and the appliances were so fancy they looked like they must have cost more than a full year’s worth of rent on my own apartment.
But the kitchen was only in my periphery now because my gaze was fixed on Leo. On the way his bottomless blue eyes roamed over me with hunger. On the slope of his neck, corded with muscle, to his broad shoulders and chest contained only by his crisp white dress shirt.
I wanted to see what he looked like without all the finery. I wanted him naked as he let me explore him with my fingertips and tongue.
Clearing my throat with a twinge of embarrassment at my obvious eye-fuckery, I forced my gaze to the stainless steel fridge, doing what I could to balm over the moment with something steadying. The gleaming silver surface was spotless, not a smudge or fingerprint to be found. “You must have quite the cleaning crew.”
Heat was still heavy in his gaze as the right side of his mouth tugged. “Yes, Vanessa is . . . thorough.” I nodded, drinking more of my champagne as I wondered if Vanessa was also a target of his . . . charms. “Red or white sauce?”
“Huh?” I asked, still reeling from that fiery exchange.
His mouth curled higher, smug and satisfied. It was clear the effect he had on me. “Red or white sauce, Mara?”
I loved how often he said my name. Like he wanted to keep rolling it off his tongue. “White, please.”
“Good choice,” he said through that grin as he moved to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of heavy cream and a wedge of Parmesan cheese before stepping over to a built-in pantry where he grabbed a bag of flour and some seasonings.
“Wait,” I started. “You’re not making something from scratch, are you?”
His gaze caught me over his shoulder. “I said I was going to make you something, Mara. And that’s what I intend to do.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really, it’s not worth the trouble?—”
His scoff cut off my words. “Why is it not worth the trouble to feed you? You’re hungry, you need to eat. Let it happen.” His eyes flashed like lightning as they fell to my mouth. Fell further to sweep along my body with a confidence that told me he knew exactly where to apply the kind of pressure that would make my limbs dissolve. He looked at me like he’d make sure I enjoyed it. “Trust me, it’s worth the trouble to feed you something.”
