“Oh?” One eyebrow drew up. “What do we have?”
She snorted and then caught herself, embarrassed. “We have this.” She gestured toward the food. “And sex. That’s all. Food and sex.” He’d never proclaimed to be a knight in shining armor, especially hers, so why all the questions? “My everyday life doesn’t include you. You’re a fantasy who shows up periodically for fun, and then you’re gone. Stop acting like you’re more.”
If the words affected him in any way, he didn’t show it. Instead, he reached for his wine, his gaze holding hers like a lion watching a doe, and drank down the entire glass. Setting it aside, he tossed his napkin on the table. “Are you hungry?”
“Not even a little bit.” She was more out of sorts than she’d thought.
“Good.” He pushed back from the table, stood, and moved toward her. “This is a conversation better had where I can touch you.” Dipping his shoulder, he lifted her in corded arms.
She yelped and grabbed his chest for balance. “What are you doing?” she whispered. How was he so strong? Even for a healthy guy who worked out, his strength was somehow beyond the norm. Fluid and natural.
He turned, grabbed his jacket, and strode for the living room, dropping onto her couch and setting those thick boots on her glass coffee table. The jacket had landed next to him. One arm remained beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders, easily cradling her against his rock-hard chest. His lips snapped over her jugular with just enough force to make her jump.
Then, clearly indulging himself, he tugged the clip from her hair, which cascaded down. Burying his face in the mass of dark curls, he breathed in. “I love your hair.”
She tried to perch primly on his lap and not snuggle right into him. His strength was as much of a draw as his passion. “What conversation did you want to have?”
He leaned back and waited until she’d turned her head to face him. “We agreed to keep this casual.”
“I know.” She played with a loose thread on his dark T-shirt.
“Then you started cooking me dinner.”
She blinked. “I like to cook.”
“Then you started keeping my beer on hand and lighting candles with every meal.”
She shrugged. “Candles create nice light that helps with digestion.” Could she sound like any more of a dork?
“Right.” He played idly with her hair, heat from his body keeping her toasty warm.
Flutters awakened again throughout her body, and her nipples hardened. Good thing the bright red bra had plenty of padding. She tried to shift her weight, not surprised when he kept her easily in place. “I have not asked you for anything,” she murmured, panic beginning to take hold.
“I like that about you.” He punctuated the words with a tug on her hair. “In fact, I like you.”
“I like you, too.” The words went unsaid, but that’s all they had, and that’s all they were. It was an adventure, and she was truly enjoying the ride. She knew where they stood. “Stop playing with me.”
“I’m not playing.” His gaze dropped to her lips right before he leaned in to rest his mouth over hers.
Liquid fire shot from her chest to her sex.
He nibbled on her bottom lip, kissed the corners of her mouth, lightly whispering against her. “This is playing.” The hand in her hair twisted, drawing back her head and elongating her neck. “This is not.” He swooped in, angled his mouth over hers, and took. Deep and hard, he kissed her, his mouth alone having enough power to drive her head back against his palm.
Hunger slammed through her, and she moaned low in her throat. Pleasure swamped her, head to toe, vibrating in waves as she kissed him back. Her nails dug into his chest, and she tried to move closer into him. He controlled the kiss, taking her deeper, his erection easily discernible beneath her butt.
Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes the color of a rocky riverbed beneath a stormy sky. “Who hit you?”
The simple words struck like a splash of cold water in the face. Shock dropped her mouth open. Had he been trying to manipulate her by kissing her like that? Sure, he’d been passionate with her many times, but something felt different. A wildness she’d always sensed in him seemed to be breaking free. “Forget you.” Slamming her hand against his chest, she shoved off his lap.
“Zara.” One word, perfectly controlled. He held up a hand, showing a long scar across his love line. One that he’d never explained, even when she’d asked nicely.
Her knees shook, but she backed away until her shoulders hit the fireplace mantel. Anger and panic welled up in her, and she couldn’t separate them and think, so she just spoke. “Unless we’re eating or screwing, my life is none of your business.” She was trying hard to keep her sanity and so did not need mixed signals from him. He didn’t get to act like he really cared—not that way. “Got it?”