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She clears her throat. “Because, you know, it’s dangerous. I mean, the percentage of female serial killers compared to males is negligible but never zero.”
“Right. One can never be too careful.”
“Exactly.”
I fry up the meatballs, then add them to the simmering sauce. Before long, the spaghetti is done, and I’m taking the garlic bread from the oven as she licks her lips.
“More wine?” I pour her another glass and one for myself, then make her plate, piling the spaghetti and meatballs high.
“I’ll never be able to eat all that.”
“You said you were hungry. I’m going to feed you.” I sit beside her and lay a napkin across her lap. “Eat as much as you want.”
“It smells so good. Way better than Prego.”
I stifle a laugh. “High praise indeed.”
She smirks and takes a bite, a moan coming from her as she chews. “So good.”
Satisfaction buzzes through me as she enjoys my cooking. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Love it, you mean.” She twirls more pasta on her fork and stabs a piece of meatball. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“You know, Maggie, I haven’t even asked you what you do for a living.”
She stops chewing for a moment, then recovers and swallows. “Oh, I’m just a work from home contractor. Nothing special.”
“I think you’re quite special.” I push the garlic bread closer to her. “So you do contract work? What sort?”
“Just–” She takes a comically huge bite of spaghetti and chews for a long, long while.
I can’t help my smile. She’s fucking cute as can be, even when she’s not trying. It’s adorable.
When she swallows again, she dabs at her mouth with the napkin. “Like I was saying, I just do IT work here and there. Contract stuff. Sometimes people need help with their systems, and I’m the help.”
“Computer work, hm?” I sip my wine. “You must be good at it. You seem to have an eye for detail.”
She gives me a sidelong glance. “I notice things. Yes.”
“Far more than the average person.”
“You could say that.” She rubs her stomach and sits back. “If I take another bite, I might explode.”
“Don’t do that. I have tiramisu waiting for you.”
She moans and wipes her mouth again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. When in Rome and all.”
“And before you ask, no, I don’t make tiramisu for anyone else. Only you.”
She nods. “Good.”
Only everyou.
11
MAGGIE
Iwatch Owen lick his fingers clean of me once again. My heart hammers. There is something happening to me that I don’t understand. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. I want more. I never want to lose this sensation.
