Dangerous Fling (Dangerous Noise 4)

I should fucking enjoy something today.

And there's my something, dressed like an angel and staring at me like she's about to whisk me to paradise.

I still don't know about everything, but I can show her a hell of a night.

36

Lacey

We meet at Mal's place. Well, it's more like I arrive at his place thirty minutes late, because it took me forever to pick up what I need.

But I'm here.

And he's here, standing in the door frame all tall and broad and handsome, his expression somewhere between I'm glad you're here and I'll never be glad again.

I hold up the grocery bag in my hand. "I hope you're hungry."

"Carbs, carbs, carbs?" He teases.

The lightness in his voice makes me warm all over. This is hopelessly fucked, but Mal is going to be okay. He's going to come out on the other side okay even if there's a whole lot of agony in the middle.

I rise to my tiptoes and wrap my arms around him. The paper bag smacks into his side, but still I pull him tighter.

I rest my head against his chest.

He presses his palms against my back, one between my shoulder blades, one just above my ass.

The embrace is enough to get feelings rising up in my throat. All these words form and dissolve on the tip of my tongue.

I can't make sense of them, much less verbalize them.

I nip at his ear. "Don't cry, but I didn't bring any carbs."

"That's hard to believe."

"I know." I pull back enough to show off the grocery bag—wild-caught salmon and kale.

Mal lets out a full-blown belly laugh as he whisks me inside. "You're mocking me."

"I'm honoring your dietary preferences."

"By mocking me."

"And mocking you." I set the bag on the counter and move into the kitchen.

"You kick a man when he's down."

"But I do it lovingly." I bite my tongue. It's too soon to use that word. We've been dating a month now. Or two? I don't know. Time has felt drawn out and pushed together since I left Adam.

Some expression flares in Mal's deep blue eyes, but I can't place it. The more I stare, the less I want to place it. I want to get lost in those eyes. And in his arms. And in his bed.

And in his life.

Those three words rise up in my throat. I swallow them down. This is the wrong time. This is completely the wrong time.

But the words don't want to go.

"I want to make this now." I find a frying pan and a small pot. My cooking skills are somewhat limited, but I should be able to manage pan frying salmon and sautéing some kale. I certainly watched Adam cook enough meals. Hell, I've seen Mal cook this exact meal a few times now.