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Next, he made a beautiful salad with thinly sliced cucumbers and tomatoes. He drizzled olive oil and topped it with chopped basil and salt and pepper.
She was drooling by the time he placed her dish in front of her. And not just for the food.
“This looks fabulous,” she smiled.
“Well, I’m no poet and I don’t know shit about flowers, but I can cook,” he said.
Jasper ducked his head, and she realized he really was jealous of all that stuff Medjed had written about her. Holy cow. Could this beautiful man really care about her?
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m more into food than poetry,” she returned.
He rumbled happily, and she blushed as she cut into the perfectly cooked meat. Tender, pink, hot. Just the way she liked it.
Gulp.
Great. Carolina couldn’t stop thinking pervy thoughts. As if he could read her mind, one corner of Jasper’s mouth tilted up in a flirtatious little semi-grin that remained in place while they ate.
“I always envied people who could cook,” she said, trying to keep the dinner conversation light.
“The things you can do with those hands are far more remarkable than cooking a steak,” he replied.
Images of Jasper on the couch with her between his knees, licking, sucking, and squeezing his massive dick with her hands and mouth, filtered through her brain, and she almost fell off the seat.
“Whoa,” he said, catching her elbow. “I meant your art, baby. But yeah, those hands are really talented at other stuff too. If you want to talk about that, just let me know,” he said, kissing her fingertips before letting her hand go.
“No,” she said too quickly. “Uh, I can talk about, uh, sculpting and stuff.”
She was a rambling idiot. Imagine being shy after the things they’d done together, but there she was, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Of course, once she thought about that, she imagined his mouth on her, and any hope she had at being able to get the mouthful of beef she was chewing down her throat went out the window. It took a minute, but finally, she swallowed.
“Have any siblings?” he asked.
“No, it was just me and my parents. I was sort of a late gift. They were almost fifty when they had me.” She smiled fondly at the memory of being an only child, “Of course, they didn’t know what to do with me. I was coloring on walls and playing in mud, and they were both very straitlaced scientists. I miss them. They passed about a year ago, Mom after Dad. Like she could not bear to be here without him.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I miss my Mom too. But it must have been fun for them, to have someone as bright and artistic as you in their lives,” he said, and she felt herself go warm.
“I don’t know, I always kind of felt like I must’ve been a disappointment,” she shrugged.
Jasper took her hand and waited until her eyes met his. Would she ever grow tired of that intense golden stare of his?
She highly doubted it. His eyes were like two pools full of warm honey, luminous and hypnotizing.
“I know they loved you and would be proud of you today.”
“Oh, no. I mean, I know they loved me, but I’m really not someone who inspires pride—”
“You are the most amazing woman I have ever met, Carolina Moore. If anyone in your life can’t see you for the gift you are, then I say to hell with them.”
“Oh,” she said, drowning in his gaze.
His head dipped forward, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. Was she really going down this path again? It was such sinfully sweet heaven to be with Jasper, but to what end? She questioned herself, even as her heart threatened to beat her to death.
Wait—was that her heart or the front door?
The question was answered when the single slab of hand-carved oak that graced Jennifer’s front door burst into a million pieces. Splintered wood shot across the room, and Jasper covered her with his own body. She hardly had time to think, never mind react.
“Get under the table!” Jasper snarled, careful when he shoved her beneath the kitchen table and jumped up to meet the assault head on.
