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“The rules.” I attempt to put some distance between us but my words come out hollow, no real power behind them. He sees it for the feeble and pathetic excuse they are.
“Fuck your rules, kitten,” he curses, low and rough. “We play by mine now.”
Before I can argue, he kisses me hard again, shutting me up until I forget my own name.
“Don’t confuse Paris with Vegas.” His thumb rubs my bottom lip. “Everything that happened there between us isn’t staying there. You gave me your body and I’m not returning it.Not yet.”
Wrapping his large hand around my hand, he tugs me toward the kitchen and doesn’t stop near the dining table like I expect. Rounding the island, he turns, grabs me around the waist, and sets me down on the counter in one swift and strong move.
The strap of my cami top falls down one shoulder and my chest expands when he tucks it back into place. The heat from his fingers, burning my skin and lingering after he removes his hand. Every little thing he does, especially the domestic kind, like greeting me home with a kiss, draws me deeper into his orbit.
Until I don’t know if I’m sinking or flying.
Either is dangerous to my heart.
He gives me his back as he goes back to cooking on the stove and speaks casually, “Do you like biryani?”
Instantly, my mouth waters while my semi-functioning brain observes my surroundings and doesn’t miss the delicious aroma of herbs and veggies along with rice simmering in the cooker before Dash covers it to let it steam.
“I do.”
“Good to know burgers aren't the only thing you eat,” he jokes.
“I have other favorite dishes I enjoy, just so you know.”
“Tell me one.”
My mouth parts before I close it. I swear, literally nothing comes to mind and he turns to glance at me with a smug smirk. So, I blurt out randomly, “I love… fries.”
“That’s a snack.”
“I also like pizza.” My face scrunches as I say it, making his shoulders shake with silent laughter. I throw my hands in the air as I sigh, “Fine. I have an unhealthy obsession with burgers.”
I start to slide off the counter but he’s in front of me in a flash and halts my progress with his hands on my thighs. He towers over my frame even with the added height as I sit on the counter and my neck strains as I maintain eye contact with him.
His eyes dance with mirth and warmth, like I’m a fascinating creature fallen into his lap.
“You’re sexy when you’re mad and too adorable when you’re annoyed.”
“Both of which you make me feel plenty.”
He leans forward, inching his fingers up my inner thigh and closer to my sex before drawling, “They make youplenty wettoo, kitten.”
The loud whistling sound of the cooker saves me from his wandering hands and I come to my senses. His eyes promise it’s not over before he reluctantly pulls away. The muscles in his forearms flex as moves to a cupboard to take out the wine glasses, which I didn’t know we had. Then he opens the refrigerator to grab my favorite red wine I always keep at my place.
“Set the plates, wifey.”
Stupid, idiotic butterflies take flight. I couldn’t ignore them even if I tried.
Dash has two moods around me, which I can guess by the nicknames he calls me. I’m his wifey when he’s playful and seductive but when he’s overcome with dark possessiveness and deviant desires, I’m his kitten.
And god, how they both affect me equally.
There was a time when the latter used to annoy me. Now, it’s the polar opposite.
My heart flips at the affection they hold, even when he’s growling in the smooth yet rough timbre of his voice.
Dash quirks a perfect eyebrow when I sit like a statue. I jump and quickly move, not before I notice his hungry gaze lock on my bouncing breasts underneath my top.I’m playing with fire—says his expression.
