“This smells incredible.” I take a bite of perfectly roasted potatoes, and… Oh my god… Well, the moan slips out before I can stop it. “Okay, this is ridiculous. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“Self-taught, mostly.” He takes a bite of his own, and those dark eyes never leave mine. “Though Savannah’s given me some pointers over the years. But I’ve been handling myself in the kitchen for a long time now.”
“Speaking of Savannah…” I twirl my fork, trying to stay casual despite my heart thrashing against my ribs. “We had a talk today.”
“Yeah?”
“She told me some things about you. Just answers to my questions, really.”
“I’m an open book, Piper. Savannah knows there’s nothing she could tell you that I wouldn’t tell you myself if you asked.”
“She said you wanted to wife me up.” Christian breaks into a laugh, lowering his fork as his head tips back just enough to show off the strong line of his throat.
“Did she now?” He strokes his jaw, the scruff there rasping against his fingers in a way that makes me want to reach out and touch it myself. “Gonna have her ass for that.”
“She was just teasing. She said that when we first met…”
“That I was instantly attracted to you?”
“I wish I’d known. Or maybe I wish I’d had a little longer to figure it out before I met…” I trail off because saying his son’s name right now feels wrong. Like it would poison whatever this is we’re building between us. “I just never thought someone like you would look twice at someone like me.”
“You walked into that bar, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. It was like something clicked into place in my head, and I haven’t had a moment’s peace since.” His gaze darkens, pupils blown wide, blazingwith hunger. “And now you’re sitting in my kitchen, making these little noises over my cooking, when I’ve spent months imagining you making them for very different reasons.”
“Look at you, Christian.” I gesture vaguely at… well, all of him. Because how the hell do you even begin to describe perfection? “I’ve met Travis’s mom, and even though I can’t stand the woman, I’m not blind. She’s like… unfairly gorgeous. All delicate, petite, blonde, and perfect. Probably never said ‘fuck’ in her life.” The concern claws its way up my throat, not because I’m not confident in myself or my body, but because I’m the complete opposite of the only woman I know for sure he’s been with.
“Your point?” Christian levels me with a look like I’ve just said the dumbest shit he’s ever heard.
“I’m not exactly…” I wave at myself like it explains all the things I’m too chickenshit to say out loud. “I curse like a trucker, I’ve got curves for days, and I’m definitely not some tiny thing you can just toss around.”
His eyes go midnight dark, and something primal bleeds into his stare. “You wanna test that theory? Because I’ll throw you around this room right now. Show you exactly how easy it is to pin you against every surface until you’re nothing but a shaking, begging mess for me.” I can’t tear my eyes away from him and the way his hands flex on the table like he’s fighting the urge to reach across and just take. “Someone made you feel like that body of yours doesn’t deserve to be worshipped?”
“Something like that.”
“Never again, you hear me? If you give yourself to me, Piper, I’ll make sure you never feel anything less than perfect again. I’ll show you over and over until you can’t even remember what it feels like to be unwanted.”
Every word hits exactly where it needs to. It’s like he’s already inside my head, answering questions I haven’t asked yet.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we finish the last of our meal, but the air between us is anything but peaceful. The longer we sit here, the more anxiety coils inside my stomach because I know without a doubt that Christian Crawford is going to be inside me tonight.
He’s done holding back, and God knows I’m not about to stop him. Not when I’ve been imagining this moment for months.
“Thank you, Christian. This was really nice.”
He holds my gaze across the table, eye-fucking the life out of me as he leans back in his chair like he’s just waiting for the signal to pounce.
“I’ll clean up.” I practically jump to my feet, grabbing his plate and mine before he can say a word. But his eyes are on me the entire time, burning a path down my spine as I carry the dishes to the sink.
I’m stacking plates, trying to keep my hands busy, when I feel the solid wall of his chest pressing against my back.He leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear, making my lashes flutter shut.
“Put your hands on the counter.”
I stop what I’m doing and place my palms down, arching slightly, and the deep, feral sound that rumbles out of him tells me exactly what that does to him.
His hands grip my waist, but they don’t settle for long. He’s already exploring, running his fingers across my ribs and tracing just below my breasts. It’s wild to me how quickly my body responds to him. With other men, it’s always taken time, coaxing, and patience. But with Christian, my body’s ready for him the second he touches me.
“God, I wanna strip you naked and fuck you against every surface in this house until you can’t see straight.”
“Then do it,” I fire back, and he lets out a possessive growl, his mouth lowering to my shoulder, his teeth scraping my skin before his large hands grip my waist again.
