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“I heard,” he said.
She chuckled, even though she wasn’t sure his tone was approving. “And Haven, too. They seemed nice.”
He smirked. “Nice, huh?”
“Are they not nice?” She arched an eyebrow, happy to pull the conversation from whatever had made him so serious to banter around something lighter.
He chuffed out a little laugh. “Haven is nice. Obviously. Jagger…” Caine nodded. “He’s one of the best of all of us. And Dare, he’s a total hard ass, but when the chips are down, I’d absolutely want him at my side.” He cleaned his plate, even going so far as to scoop every little drop of sauce off.
She held out her hand. “Let me get you seconds.”
His gaze lifted to hers, and then he shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“I enjoy seeing you enjoy what I made,” she said. She hadn’t intended there to be innuendo in what she said, but she heard it nonetheless. And so, it seemed, did he.
He tilted his head and licked his lips, and it made her belly go on a loop-the-loop. Emma was endlessly fascinated with this man’s mouth. The softness of those full lips. The way they could press into a harsh line that communicated so much. The words that fell from it—sometimes too blunt, sometimes mysterious, sometimes sarcastic and even a little funny. And then, sometimes, so sweet it stole her breath. She wouldn’t mind becoming a lot more acquainted with his mouth. There was no doubt about it.
“Maybe I could have a little more,” he said. His voice was low, rough.
She took his plate and rose, and she felt the weight of his gaze on her almost like it was a physical caress. At the stove, she cut a piece as big as the first. As fast as he’d demolished his first helping, it was clear he was hungry. And she remembered how loud his stomach had growled that first night before they’d been interrupted. She was only too happy to feed him.
Ten minutes later, satisfaction rolled through her when he’d cleaned his plate for the second time. “Dessert?” she asked with a grin.
He rubbed a hand over his stomach. “I shouldn’t.”
“That’s not a no. Before you decide, maybe you should know that I don’t just have cookies.” Grinning, she went to the freezer and pulled out two boxes, then turned and held them up for him. “I also have the mac daddy of ice cream treats—classic Nutty Buddy Sundae Cones and Chocolate Overload Nutty Buddy Super Scoops Sundae Cones.”
“The mac daddy, huh?” It was the closest thing she’d ever seen to a full, real smile on Caine’s face, and it made him freaking gorgeous. His eyes crinkled, and he had the hint of a dimple just on one side.
Emma was entirely sure her jaw was sitting on the kitchen floor. She struggled to pick it up. “Yup,” she managed, and then she shook the boxes. “Come on, you know you wanna.”
His gaze went from the first box, to the second, then to her. He gave her a slow, blatant, lingering onceover that made her want to tear off her sweater for the heat that flashed through her blood. “You might be right, Emma. I do wanna.”
Her heart tripped into a sprint. Because she was pretty sure that she was game for whatever he might want. And why not? She was twenty-seven and single. She didn’t need anyone’s permission, nor did she require some sort of commitment to consider enjoying a man’s company. And more than all of that, no man had ever taunted and tempted and intrigued her the way this one did. Maybe it was that he’d protected her. Maybe it was all the layers she sensed beneath the hard-as-hell exterior. Or maybe it was that killer intensity that ricocheted off of him, some potent elixir of raw masculinity with a dash of danger.
Swallowing hard, she managed a nod. “So, I’ll ask again. Dessert?”
Chapter 8
Caine ached into his very bones. Ached with desire and need and lust.
As if Emma Kerry wasn’t fucking beautiful and funny and smart. As if she wasn’t direct and honest and sincere. As if she hadn’t sated his hunger for the first time in…ever. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to eat until he was full. Now she was waving a red flag at him, and he wasn’t sure she realized that he was a bull that wanted nothing more than to charge until he’d pinned her to the ground beneath him.
He felt torn in two. Between restraint and letting himself loose. Between doing what was right for both of them and doing what they obviously both wanted. Between being dumbfounded that someone like Emma would want him, and not wanting to question it before she came to her senses and realized she was way too fucking good to be messing around with someone like him. Someone so broken. Someone so unworthy. Someone whose hands were so dirty with the grime of life’s underbelly.
