I shook my head. “I like you better angry at least then I know what to expect. When you’re happy, I think you’re either high or ready to kill me.”
“That’s confusing.” He frowned. “So when I’m mean you feel safer, when I’m nice you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
My stomach growled as I eyed the plate in my hands. “M-maybe.”
“Annie.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Just eat the damn peace offering.”
“I don’t trust any offering from you.” My stomach rumbled again. I was so starving that I was ready to eat the plate along with the food.
One of Ash’s eyebrows arched as he reached for the bacon and held it in front of my mouth. “Bite it, or I’ll bite you.”
“That’s—”
He shoved the bacon in my mouth the minute my lips parted. It was crispy and hot against my tongue. How did I not know he cooked? Oh right, because he’d only ever kissed me, almost had sex with me, yelled at me, and then traumatized me.
I literally knew nothing else about him other than he had anger issues and liked to kill God’s creatures.
“So?” He rocked back on his feet, his smile triumphant. “How’s it taste?”
I chewed and then shrugged. “Not sure yet.” I opened my mouth and pointed.
He actually smiled, not a smug I’m going to terrorize you later smile, but one that felt genuine, that had warmth spreading from my head all the way down to my toes as he moved closer, the plate still between us, grabbed another piece and held it in front of my mouth.
I leaned in and bit down, only to have him replace his fingers with his mouth as he tugged the bacon toward him.
One more centimeter, and we’d be kissing.
It was another mind game.
A trick.
But it was also bacon, so I held on for dear life.
Never thought I’d be playing chicken with Ash in the kitchen using bacon as our weapon, but then again, the mafia was a strange, strange world, so why not?
He inched his mouth forward, his eyes locked on mine in amusement like he knew I was starting to sweat.
I gave a hard tug with my teeth and his lips pressed against mine briefly before I jerked my head away, taking most of the bacon with me in triumph.
“Winner, winner, bacon dinner?” He didn’t take his eyes off my mouth.
I kept chewing. “Are you sure you’re not on something?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, taking the plate with him and setting it on the breakfast bar.
I will not stare at his ass in those trousers.
I will not stare at his biceps in that ridiculous Eagle Elite sweater vest.
I will not imagine eating bacon off his eight pack.
“Why are your eyes closed?” Ash asked a few seconds later.
I quickly opened them. “No reason, just doing… math.”
“You’re not in math.” His lips pressed together in an amused smile. “Try again.”
“I was thinking.”
“Extremely hard,” he pointed out as he grabbed the orange juice and handed it to me.
I took it and then frowned as I looked down into the cup. “You’re sure it’s not poisoned?”
He took the glass with a curse, downed half the juice, and then handed it back to me. “Happy?”
“No.” I took a few sips of juice and set it on the counter by the plate. “Because now your germs are all over my OJ.”
“Germs?” Both eyebrows shot up. “That ship has fucking sailed, little girl… or have you forgotten that night in the pool? My tongue was so far down your throat it was almost between your thighs.”
“Ewwwwww.” Izzy’s voice sounded in the kitchen. “Why do I have the worst timing ever?”
“Oh please.” Ash flipped her off. “It’s not like you and Maksim were playing solitaire all those times he stayed over—he’s lucky he isn’t walking with a limp and only half his dick.”
Her eyes flickered with anger and then sadness as she stared him down and then went over to the fridge, pulling out the milk.
I almost asked her if she was okay.
Or if she wanted to talk.
But last time I even mentioned him, she threatened me, so maybe she just needed time?
God knows I needed at least a year to recover from Ash, and now I felt like I was back at square one. I half expected him to nudge me in the arm and then mess up my hair.
What was with him?
I quickly glanced back at him.
His smile was gone.
Expression blank. “What?”
“I don’t trust you.”
His smirk was drop-dead gorgeous spreading across his face like a cruel promise. “Good. You probably shouldn’t.”
Frowning, I walked past him only to have him grab my arm again and drag me toward the door.
“Bye, Iz!”
“See ya!”
I dug my heels in the ground, but it was no use. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
“You have class, I have class, we’re saving the environment, get in.” He gave me a little shove toward his BMW i8; I nearly got taken out by the suicide door as it stretched vertically dangerously close to my head.