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It had been too long since he was this close.
His warm breath wafted across the back of my neck. “It’s burning.”
“Huh?”
His arm came around me, and I stiffened, sucking in a lungful of air. Oh God.
“Baby.”
My insides splintered at the sound of his low voice vibrating next to my ear. Baby. With that one word, it was as if he was touching me all over.
His fingers wrapped around the handle of the frying pan. “It’s burning.”
Huh? I glanced down and saw smoke billowing from underneath the pancake. “Crap.” It was obvious it was dangerous to be handling hot things around Vic.
He slid the pan off the element. “You finish getting whatever else you need ready. I’ll cook another batch.”
I peered over my shoulder at him, which was a mistake because his plush lips were mere inches away. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure.” I handed him the spatula and sashayed out from between him and the stove. “Do you cook?”
He nodded. “I live alone and I like to eat, so yeah.”
He shoveled the three burnt pancakes from the pan and tossed them into the compost bin.
I opened the fridge and took out the blueberries and the chunks of honeydew melon. “What about when you’re working?” And hunting the worst motherfuckers in the world.
Vic dropped a dollop of butter into the pan and it sizzled. “MREs.”
“MREs?”
“Meals, ready to eat. Processed. Canned. Doesn’t go bad.”
I laughed. “Sounds appetizing.” I grabbed the syrup from the pantry and set it on the table alongside the bowl of fruit. “Do you like what you do, Vic?”
“I’m good at it.”
“I was really good in statistics class, but I hated it.”
His mouth twitched. “I like it, babe.”
“Did you always know that’s what you’d do?”
He flipped a pancake. “Don’t believe in fate or destiny or God. But if any of those existed, yeah, I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to do.” He looked up at me. “And I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
I bit my lip and smiled. “I like where you’re supposed to be too.”
There was a clatter, and I glanced over at Vic as he picked up the disposable compost bin. “Hey, kid, can you put this outside in the bin?”
Jackson dropped the handful of cutlery onto the table. “Okay,” he said, and eagerly ran over to grab the bin from Vic. Jackson darted outside, the screen door bouncing closed behind him. I was walking over to the fridge to grab the orange juice when Vic’s arm shot out, hooked my waist, and slingshot me into his rock-hard body.
“Vic,” I squealed with raspy breathlessness.
His fingers dug into my side as he spun me around, then settled me between the counter and his body. “Fuck, I want to kiss you. I want to have you in my fuckin’ bed naked so I can taste every single inch of you.”
Oh. My. God. “Umm, yeah, okay. I’d like that too.”
He shook his head. “No, baby. I told you. Nothing happens until I know everything—and I’ve talked to your brother. I’ve waited a week for you to come to me. To tell me whatever secret you’re hiding, and babe, I’ve given you plenty of opportunities, but you haven’t.” He lowered his voice. “Your kid is going to be back here in two minutes, maybe three. You want to tell me now or when he’s here? Either way, I’m getting an answer today.”
He sent Jackson outside so he wouldn’t hear, and as much as I didn’t like how Vic was bulldozing me for an answer, I liked that he thought of Jackson before he did it.
