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“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to consume me.”
“I will.”
She holds a hand up. “I’m hungry. I want pancakes.”
I back off, delighting in her presence. I can tell that she’s getting over her frustration, even if she’s still a little upset.
“I’ll ask Linda,” I say.
“You make it.”
“And then you’ll forgive me?”
“Will you let me leave the house?”
“Negotiable.” I turn and walk down the hallway.
She runs after me. “You jerk!”
I laugh and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in for a deep kiss.
This woman is mine.
Even if she won’t admit it.
28
SHANEL
Bacon sizzles over the stove, coating the air and making my stomach growl. I roll my fingers over my new phone—a gift from Hawk—and try not to drool over him as he stands at the stove flipping pancakes in nothing but his black boxer briefs.
But come on?
How am I supposed to look at anything else?
His long, lithe body is pure muscle. Not the big, body-builder kind of muscle that wouldn’t last in a real-world situation.
Hawk’s built like a machine.
No extra fat.
Lethal elegance.
Pure power.
His back muscles twitch as he moves the spatula up and down. Tan skin ripples over his soul-snatching physique.
I want to rake my hands down that slim waist and plaster myself all over him.
Damn.
I’m thirsty. And this coffee just isn’t doing it for me anymore.
I pad to the industrial-sized fridge and pull out a bottle of water, stealing a moment in the cold air to cool down.
Hawk glances at me, a smirk on his lips. “Need something?”
