The threat of him correcting my sloppiness sets my skin on fire as I open the bedroom door.
The scent of maple bacon wraps around me as I creep toward the kitchen. He doesn’t have music playing or the television on like any other normal person would. He doesn’t stiffen or show any other indication that he knows I’m close, but I’m not convinced that he isn’t well aware of my presence.
“I was wondering if you were going to get your sweet ass out of bed or if I was going to have to eat it all myself.”
I try to hide the smile sweeping across my face, but it’s impossible.
“I didn’t realize you were such a pussy.”
He turns a little, looking at me over his shoulder. His eyes sweep the naked length of me, and it takes a lot of power not to preen at his perusal. There’s no denying the need that flashes in his eyes, and it’s almost strong enough to make me clench my thighs together.
I point to his boxer briefs when he doesn’t say anything. “Afraid of getting a little bacon grease on your dick?”
His grin is quick, a little sinister, as he looks from the pan and back to me.
I have a sudden urge to run as tears burn behind my eyes.
He fucking notices because the man is an expert at reading people. He turns off the burner, moving the pan to the back of the stove before prowling toward me.
His hand is behind my head before I can decide on my next course of action.
“I’m going to hurt you, Lauren. I’m going to fuck you so hard some days, so long that even your begging won’t make me stop because that’s what I’m going to need from you.”
I nod, my throat thick with emotions.
“I would never cause you that kind of pain.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe him.
“I will bite you, whip you, draw blood on your skin. I’m a sinister motherfucker, but I’d never pour hot fucking grease on you.”
I’m shaking at this point, the fear from thinking he could do something like that mixing with the realization that the man can practically read my mind. It’s exactly what I thought, and as much as I’ve been hurt, burns are the worst.
“Understand?”
I open my eyes to find him watching me. He has to shake me by the grip he has on the back of my neck before I answer.
“Yes.”
He leans in closer.
“If you fucking kiss me, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
A wide grin curls his lips up. “There’s my girl. Now, how do you like your eggs?”
“Fried,” I answer before thinking, as if I’m being asked for my order in a restaurant.
His grin grows wider. “Scrambled it is.”
I watch his gorgeous ass as he walks back to the stove, his back muscles rippling under his tan skin.
“I’m going to sit you in my lap while we eat. Just telling you so you can decide if you’re going to let it happen or if I need to tie you up.”
His eyes are dark and promising when he looks back at me again.
I still haven’t made up my mind as he puts all the food on one plate before walking across the room and patting his lap after sitting in the only chair at the very small kitchenette.
“Is this because you only have one chair?” I ask as I cross the room.