Now she said, “Famous, huh?”
“World-famous.” He pulled her slightly closer to him. Her body was so soft. All he wanted to do was to sink into her, to bury himself in her sweet, yielding curves and never come up for air again.
Jillian put her mouth against his ear and said, in a seductive purr, “Your French toast is burning.”
“That?
??s your fault,” Theo said, turning quickly to move it off the stove. He sadly surveyed the damage done and decided that he couldn’t subject his mate, the one and only love of his life, to a scorched breakfast. He started prepping another batch. “You sabotaged me. Like Mata Hari.”
“I think Mata Hari only did pancakes and waffles.”
“You’re ambitious.”
She stood beside him as he mixed the batter. He loved the obvious pleasure she took in breathing in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla extract. He knew it was a sign of trust that she was given him this early morning version of herself, rumpled and indulgent. They both took too much care weighing the impressions they made and trying to prove what they were and weren’t: relaxation wouldn’t come easily. But here she was.
In the soft light through the window, she was unguarded and more beautiful than ever.
She stuck her finger in the batter and then licked it clean. It was a distracting sight.
“Tiffani left?”
“I offered to cook for her, too, but I think she wanted to leave us alone. Last night wasn’t exactly subtle.”
“I don’t think you’ll rake in much cash selling that bed.”
“You’re joking. I’d never let that go. If it comes up for auction, I intend to outbid all comers.”
He drew his thumb across her lower lip. She drew him into her mouth like he was even sweeter than the vanilla. Blood abruptly left his brain.
“Careful,” Jillian said with an adorably wicked grin. “I don’t know how many batches of French toast we can go through before this turns slapstick.”
“Three. This is only batch two, so we have plenty of time.”
“I bet you say that to all the estranged daughters of white collar criminals.”
Theo pulled back just a little. “I don’t, you know.”
“Shh. Breakfast.”
He returned his gaze to the bowl and skillet, but his attention remained entirely on her. He dipped slices of bread, watching as they soaked up the golden-white batter. He wanted to give her the best of everything, and all his instincts as a dragon told him to load her down with jewels and finery. But truly excellent French toast would do if that were all he had on hand.
But he had the feeling that what she wanted from him was something else. Not things. Her father had given her things.
What she wanted and deserved was the truth. It didn’t matter how much he was afraid of it, he couldn’t go any further with her until he’d cleared things up.
“Jillian, what happened last night... for me, it wasn’t casual. Not at all.”
“No.” Her voice was low, but without the huskiness it had when she was happy. She was holding back. “You’re a smart guy. I don’t think you would go around sleeping with people tied to your cases just for kicks. I’m glad. I’m not good with casual.”
There was some comfort there, enough that in that moment, he would have happily given up all his shifter heritage to just be one ordinary man whose biggest worry was how to tell the woman he had fallen in love with that he already couldn’t imagine living without her.
In a way, though, that was the least of his secrets. He was probably giving that away to her with every look and every word.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
To his surprise, she covered his hand with hers. Her large, cocoa-brown eyes looked at him, making him think of a puppy waiting to be kicked. She’d been disappointed so many times.
But she was tough, too. She would never settle for a lie or for a relationship without honor. He could see that even now she was running through all the things he could possibly be hiding and deciding, one by one, if they were dealbreakers.