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Until he turns to face me. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he says, using the remote to turn off the TV without taking his attention off of me for a split-second. “Feel better after the shower?”
“All cleaned up and fresh. Head to toe and everything in between.” I snap my mouth closed. So much for my decision to keep things platonic. I might as well have invited him to inspect my freshness, up close and all over. At least I’m dressed to un-impress. That’ll save me from my uncontrollable, galloping libido.
Leaning back against the island, his gaze sweeps down and up my body. When his eyes lock with mine, he doesn’t look unimpressed by my clothing choice or lack of fancying up. Heat swirls in his amber eyes. One of his bullish huffs follows, and this time, he doesn’t apologize for it.
Likely because earlier, I all but told him the sound turns me on. Which it did. It does.
“Hungry?” His question could be literal or innuendo.
Either way, my answer is the same. “Starving.”
“Let’s get you filled up.”
Yes, please. Fill me up, Constantine. Fill. Me. Up.
Squeezing my legs together does nothing to relieve the building tug of need. There’s no hiding it from him, either.
His big, strong jaw ticks and he draws a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he undoubtedly catches the scent of my arousal. Tail flicking at his side, he pushes off from the granite and takes a step toward me. “Natalie.” The deep, rumbling way he says my name sends another ripple straight between my legs.
“Yes?”
“I need you to know that no matter how much I crave you, and even when your body is crying out for me to claim you as my mate, I won’t act until you tell me you want me.”
I could play coy, tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about. But we’d both know it to be a lie. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m a slow cooker at the best of times. I’m attracted to you, but I literally just decided it’d be best for us to remain platonic. I’m only here for a couple of weeks and I don’t want things to get messy between us. Then I walked out here, checked you out, and bam, I’m heated to maximum. I’m ready to do all kinds of things I’d never do on a first date. And this isn’t even a date; I’m just a guest in your house.”
“You know you’re much more than that. Attempting to deny or avoid it won’t change what fate has in store for us, but we don’t have to figure it all out here, now. How about we round up some food, kick back on the couch, relax, and get to know each other. No pressure for more. We can even make a mutual promise that it won’t turn into more tonight.”
“Even if I have a moment of weakness and tell you I want more?”
His dark lips curve into a warm smile that matches the affection in his eyes. “Even then.”
“I’d like that. Very much.”
“Good,” he says, extending one arm toward the living room area while moving toward the kitchen cabinets, where he takes out a serving platter. “Go and get comfortable. I’ll bring over a plate.”
“Okay.” The weight of his attention follows me while I peruse the seating options as if I were Goldilocks. “I don’t want to take your favorite spot,” I say, looking over at him. “Where do you usually sit?”
To my surprise, he points at one end of the large sectional. “There. But I don’t mind switching it up. You might disappear in the divot I’ve made in that seat cushion, though.”
It’s so easy to laugh with him. “I’m not that small.”
“Compared to me, you are.” The flare of his nostrils is clear, even from across the room. He’s thinking about our size difference in ways that have nothing to do with innocently sitting on the couch.
I know it because I’m thinking about it too. The size of his cock likely matches his big body, and if so, it’s huge. He’s sure I’m his mate, so sex must be possible. God help me, I want to find out. I have so many questions to ask Ro when I see her tomorrow.
Before the heat between us rises any higher, I turn away, then settle on the best part of any sectional sofa—the inner corner. The earthy-gray velour and pillowy cushions welcome me like an embrace. Fatigue rushes in, not overtaking my arousal entirely, but subduing it. If I close my eyes, I’ll be out within seconds.
Not wanting to fall asleep, I shift to a more upright position as Constantine joins me. “Ooh, that looks amazing,” I say, my empty stomach making itself known while I attempt to not drool at the contents of the large, wooden serving tray he places beside me.
“It’s all yours. Dig in.” The couch doesn’t shift when he sits, but the depression of the cushion beneath him is definitely visible.
“How much do you weigh?” The question pops out of my mouth as it enters my head. “Sorry! That’s too personal a question.”
“Between us, there’s no such thing. I’ll tell you anything and everything you want to know.” Again, the heat flickers in his eyes, as if he knows the particular things I was wondering moments ago. “To answer the question you asked, I’m around 180 kilograms. Just shy of 400 pounds.”
Three times my weight. He’d crush me if he were on top. Only, I know he wouldn’t, because he’d be careful while fucking me.
Stop thinking about him fucking you, Natalie! Especially while he’s sitting right there!
