Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"You know we've never had a real conversation the entire time I've known you?" I ask him as he pulls ingredients out and places them on the counter beside him.
He shoots me a questioning look over his shoulder.
"Are you always quiet, or were you avoiding me?" I ask point-blank.
He tenses for a moment, and I think he isn't going to answer me, but then he relaxes and goes back to prowling through the fridge. "I was avoiding you," he mutters before depositing a handful of vegetables on the counter and pushing the fridge door closed with his foot. "You're my daughter's best friend. I didn't think it was smart to spend any more time with you than was necessary when I already wanted to do fucked up shit to that sexy little body of yours."
Oh.
Well, okay then.
I clear my throat. Shift around.
"Like what?" I try to ask casually, but the question comes out sounding breathless.
His eyes meet mine. The intensity in those hazel depths sends my heart into overdrive. "I know you can still feel me inside you, baby. You really need me to tell you?"
"I…" I shrug instead of finishing that sentence.
"Didn't think so," he says before turning back to the food.
He works quickly, pulling bowls, plates, and pans out of the cabinets. Once he's gotten everything he needs, he starts chopping vegetables for omelets.
I watch him work for several minutes before hopping down to help. My legs feel like rubber beneath me as I lean over to grab my shirt out of the floor. His hand comes down on my bare ass, making me jump. Before I can even blink, he's stolen my shirt from me.
"I was going to put that on," I say, glaring at him when he tosses it on top of the fridge so I can't reach it.
"No, you weren't," he mutters before picking me up and plopping me right back down on the island. "Sit your sexy ass down and stay there."
"Don't tell me what to do, Roman."
"Then don't be a pain in the ass, Mila."
I growl at him, annoyed.
He cocks a brow at me.
"I was going to help you cook," I mumble.
"I appreciate that, baby, but you need to stay off that foot, and you need food before I fuck you again." He leans forward, pressing his lips to my cheek, right beside my ear. "And if I see that ass in the air again, I'm going to fuck you from behind whether you're starving or not. So sit there and behave." He nips at my ear before turning around and walking back to the other side of the kitchen.
I glare at him, trying to think of a retort as another wave of heat blasts through me, but nothing comes to mind. So I sit there and watch him make me breakfast instead. He looks like he knows what he's doing. Within minutes, the kitchen smells amazing, and my stomach is rumbling.
"There's no way I can eat all this," I say when he sets an omelet before me. Piled high with veggies and cheese, it's almost the same size as the plate it's on.
He just smiles at me before pulling two bottles of water out of the fridge and setting them on the island beside me. Then he grabs his plate, which has just as much food as mine, and leans back against the counter across from me.
"Eat," he says.
"Can I have my shirt?"
He shakes his head instead of answering me.
I huff in annoyance, pretend I don't see him smirk, and dig into my food. It's so good my mouth waters. Before I know it, I've eaten half of my omelet, and I'm pretty sure I am actually going to finish the rest of it.
"You can cook," I say.
"Surprised?"
Am I surprised?
"No, not really." To be honest, I don't think anything about him would surprise me. He's a mystery to me, yet I feel like I already know everything I need to know about him. I don't, though. Not really.
"Do you like your job?" I blurt out.
He stops eating, his fork hovering near his mouth. He narrows his eyes at me.
"I'm just curious," I say defensively.
"I'm not talking to you about my job, Mila." He speaks quietly, but his hard-ass-cop tone leaves no room for confusion. He's dead serious.
"Why not?" I push, though I'm not really sure why. I know he works for the ATF and that he spends a lot of time dealing with gangs and cartel members, trying to stop them from getting their hands on guns. I assume he's good at his job. And I know he doesn't even talk with Tahani about what he does. She's told me before that every time she asks him about it, he tells her he's not telling her anything about his job and then changes the subject. I expect him to do the exact same thing to me.