“Where did we go to dinner?” she asked, her voice low, her expression unreadable.
“I cooked for you.” He dropped his tone to match hers and her eyes flickered to his. “I make a mean grilled cheese.”
“I remember.” Then, “Is that your move?”
“My move?”
“Do you make all your women grilled cheese?”
He felt like he’d been sucker punched. He didn’t want to think about any other women. And none of them had beenhis.
“No,” he said tightly.
“Just kid sisters then?”
Something hot and dangerous flashed low in his belly. “You were never my kid sister.”
“Close enough.”
“No.” She made that huff/laugh sound again and he gripped her chin, turned her face to look at his. “You haven’t been a kid for a long time, Calico. And the way I feel when I’m around you is anything but brotherly.”
“Prove it,” she breathed.
He crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, deep and commanding and over too soon. He released her chin and sat back in his seat, hating the way that landmine in his chest shifted, just enough to remind him that it was there. That with one false move it would detonate.
∞∞∞
Callie wasn’t sure why she had pushed him, why she couldn’t stop needling him. Noah had always treated her well. This whole week he’d gone out of his way to take care of her. But that was the problem. She didn’t want his gentleness and his caretaking. She wanted the heat he’d only let her glimpse, the animal he kept caged somewhere out of her reach. She’d only have him for another few days and she wanted each one to leave scars, to brand them both in ways they couldn’t take back, even after he was no longer hers.
Jamie reappeared, setting down two plates in front of them and explaining about the poached peaches and the perfectly seared chicken breast, the wine and the figs and the fresh pasta to soak up the sauce, and all she wanted to do was kiss Noah again. After Jamie left, they each took a bite of their lunch. She watched Noah chew, watched his throat work as he swallowed, the way he cut into his chicken as if it had done something to offend him.
She set aside her fork and knife. “Did I stay over that first night?”
He glanced up from his food, cut off another bite. “My uncle won’t ask that.”
“Liv might.”
He glanced up again, chewed the bite slowly, and swallowed. When he spoke, his voice was sandpaper and broken glass, dark and sharp and just dangerous enough to catch her by surprise. “Yeah. You stayed over.”
She nodded, picked up her utensils and began cutting her food as if her hands weren’t shaking. That edge in his voice was turning her inside out with every word. Is that what it would have been like? If she hadn’t gotten sick all those years ago, if she’d answered when he called—would he have made her grilled cheese and she’d have spent the night in his apartment, and they’d be the ones who were getting married now?
Stop. Just stop.
Noah dropped his fork and knife, scrubbed his hand over his face, and leaned back in his chair. He watched her as she ate, every move that she made infused with the awareness of his eyes on her. After what felt like an inordinate amount of time, he picked up his utensils and began eating again.
“What did Jamie say this purple thing is?” he asked, poking at the offending item on his plate.
“A fig.”
“Huh. It’s good.”
She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. “Mmhmm. It’s really good with the feta cheese.”
He stabbed a bit of each and took a bite, grunting in approval as he dove in for a second taste. “How have I not been eating stuff like this my whole life?” he asked, shoveling more into his mouth like he’d only just realized he was hungry.
“Stick with me and I’ll show you all kinds of things you’ll love eating.”
Her heart stopped as he turned an almost feral look on her. She’d meant she’d introduce him to pickled red onions and tzatziki and Indian food but,holy shit, did she like him looking at her like he might eat her alive. She squeezed her thighs together to soothe the insistent pulse that had settled there.
