Page 82 of Anton

A stretch of silence falls between us before I glance down at my current state of disaster and grimace.

“You probably shouldn’t see me like this or you’ll never want to fuck me again.”

He catches my chin in one quick move, his gaze dropping to my lips before dragging slowly back to my eyes. “Unlikely.”

My stomach flips under his stare.

“Well…” I say, trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably. “Since you’re here and you’ve already seen me at my worst, I guess I can invite you in. Just don’t expect much, because I’m definitely not putting out today.”

Obviously, I meant it as a joke, but a low growl escapes him while his eyes drag over me in a way that makes my pulse jump again.

“If you think a little blood scares me, then you don’t know me at all.”

Okay, that was hot.

My thighs clench as need sweeps through me, and I have to look away and head inside before I take him up on his offer…if that’s what we’re calling it.

He follows me in and sets the basket on the kitchen counter. I start digging through it the second we get there because apparently I have no self-control today. Honestly, after hours of cramps and misery, I’ve earned the right to be dramatic about sugar.

“Oh my God…” I pull out the insulated bag, the hippo under my arm. “You got ice cream too? And wow, there is every type of chocolate in here.” I look up at him, my chest squeezing a little. “You’re truly amazing.”

Clutching the hippo, I throw my arms around him, and his mouth lifts into the faintest half-grin.

“I covered all my bases.”

“Clearly.” My lips brush his cheek while I fight the urge to turn my face and kiss him for real instead.

When I start to pull away, he cradles the back of my head, holding me there a little longer, and I feel him breathe me in before he lets go. Slowly, he perches back, and I register the loss of him immediately. Pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I place the hippo on the counter, take out the ice cream, and grab two bowls from the cabinet.

“Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

I bite back a smile. “You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic.”

“I said sure.”

“You’re right. That’s practically a love letter coming from you.”

His eyes cut to mine, and my stomach does that annoying little flip it keeps doing whenever he looks at me like he wants a taste of me instead.

I scoop chocolate ice cream into two bowls and hand him one before carrying mine to the sofa, where the movie remains paused on the screen.

“So…” I settle on the cushion, and when he sits beside me, his thigh presses against mine, sending heat rushing through my body. “I was in the middle of a movie when you got here.”

He looks over at me. “Okay.”

“It’s probably not your thing.”

“What is it?”

“A romance.”

His expression stays flat, but his mouth presses into a harder line.

“It’s fine.” I reach for the remote. “I can finish it later.”

His hand closes around my wrist before I can change it. “Don’t. I’ll watch it with you.”