He laughs loudly, and it’s a beautiful sound. It does things to my insides. “Does your mother know you’re a cannibal?” He kisses my cheek from behind.
I giggle as I stir the pot. “No, and don’t tell her.”
“You didn’t need to cook. I would have taken you out.” He pours himself a glass of wine.
“It’s Monday.” I frown.
“And?” He sips his wine.
“You don’t go out to dinner on a school night.”
“I go out every night.”
“What?” I frown. “You eat out every night?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
My mouth falls open, and I put my hand on my hip. “Jameson Miles, you have more money than sense. How do you relax if you go out to dinner every night?”
“I sit in a restaurant and eat.” He shrugs. “It’s really quite easy.”
I roll my eyes in disgust as I keep stirring. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” He takes me in his arms and stares down at me. “Did you really miss me over the weekend?”
I go up onto my toes and kiss his big beautiful lips. “I did, actually.”
He holds me tight.
“This is where you tell me that you missed me too,” I mutter dryly into his shoulder.
“I don’t miss people.”
“Ugh,” I huff as I pull out of his arms and go back to stirring the dinner. “Can you go out of the room so I can drug your food now?” I ask. “I plan on robbing your place.”
He chuckles. “Only if you promise to take advantage of my body while I’m sleeping.”
I giggle. “Deal.”
I dish up our dinner, and we take seats at the kitchen counter. I hold my breath as he takes his first bite. “Hmm, delicious,” he hums.
I smile proudly.
“A fuck bunny who cooks.” He smirks around a forkful of food.
“I love to cook. It’s my hobby.”
He frowns and watches me for a moment. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Emily.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. You’re very . . .” He pauses as he thinks of the right word. “Unaffected.”
“Unaffected by what?” I smirk as I eat.
He shrugs. “New York.”
“You’ve never had a girlfriend who cooked for you before?”