Stealing Her (Covet 1)

Or the times he’d take his plate into his office because he wasn’t finished and there weren’t enough hours in the day to take over the world.

“Izzy?” Bridge put his hand over mine. “Something wrong?”

“What?” I gave my head a shake. “No, sorry, do you want wine?”

“Sure.” He slowly eyed me up and down. “I like this apron . . . I don’t like the clothes behind it, but I understand . . . the apartment can get drafty at times.”

I rolled my eyes, secretly loving his teasing. “Immature.”

“Very,” he agreed, after grabbing the glass I’d poured him. “It smells incredible in here.”

“Homemade lasagna,” I announced.

Bridge set down the glass and stared at me. “Did you just say homemade lasagna? As in you made it yourself? And it’s in the oven? And I get to eat it?”

“Wow, your mom said you’d lose your mind, but I didn’t think—”

“I have exactly twelve lasagna recipes. All of them are perfected. This is a test I hope you pass.”

I burst out laughing. “She also said you got territorial when it came to your lasagna recipes, so I found my own, nothing wrong with a little competition.”

He gaped. “You realize I’m never speaking to you again if you win, right?”

“Ah, and he’s a sore loser, good to know.”

“I haven’t lost yet.”

“Have you smelled that lasagna?” I teased.

“God, have you looked in the mirror and seen how beautiful your smile is recently?” he countered, making me almost drop my wineglass. “I’ll let you win if I can kiss you right now.”

“You’re making it too easy.”

“And you’re making it extremely . . .” He hesitated and grinned. “Hard.”

“I’m blushing, aren’t I?”

“Like a tomato, one hundred percent. It’s endearing, though.”

“That’s what a woman wants to hear, that she’s endearing, like a bunny.”

“No.” He ran a hand down my back and cupped my ass. “Not like that.”

I loved the way his hands felt on me.

At the rate we were going, I was going to burn the lasagna and the apartment down.

“We should eat,” I whispered, staring into his gorgeous green eyes.

“We should.” He backed away slowly and then grabbed two plates while I tried to calm my racing heart.

I stood there long enough for him to pull out the lasagna and bread, put huge portions on each of our plates, and carry them over to the couch, where we seemed to eat every night since he’d walked in that door.

It was like he had an aversion to the dining room.

An aversion I secretly loved.

That room always felt too formal anyway.

“This smells amazing.” He dug in with his fork. While I nervously waited, he took one bite, two, three, and then leveled me with a glare. “You added vodka.”

My eyes widened. “How do you even know that?”

“And heavy cream.” He took another bite. “Shit, did you put some sharp cheddar in there too?”

“Yeah, you really should have gone to culinary school.” I took a sip of wine with a giddy smile. “So you like it?”

“I’m probably going to marry it, sorry for the letdown.”

“Well, at least you guys already have a venue.”

“Imagine our wedding night.” He grinned wide. “Just . . . sauce . . . everywhere, sauce on the pillow, sauce on the bed, sauce in my mouth—”

I burst out laughing. “You had to make it weird.”

“What can I say? I’m emotionally attached to it already.”

“You eat more than three people.”

“Is that a question or observation?”

“Observation,” I answered, taking a bite and enjoying the lasagna almost as much as he was.

I ate a few more bites, but my nerves were starting to take over.

And I was having a heck of a time not focusing on the way his biceps flexed as he took a sip or the way he wore that tight T-shirt like he was a man born with weights in his hands and testosterone coursing through his blood at alarmingly high levels. “Tell me more about you, please?”

Bridge did a double take then laughed. I loved his laugh. It was unapologetic, loud, masculine. I shivered and tried to think about Julian, about the target on my back, and I came away with absolutely nothing.

I wanted to trap this moment in time, hold on to it, and savor the laughs Bridge gave me. I wanted to run my hands up and down his body, explore it, search out every unique difference and memorize it.

“Are you listening to anything I just said?” Bridge’s smile felt almost wicked, the way his eyes roamed over my face like he knew every dirty thought I was having about him, or about to have.

My eyes widened. “Um . . . sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, you were paying attention alright, but not to anything coming out of my mouth.” His grin widened. “Did you see something you liked?”

I scowled and then covered my face with my hands, laughing. “I was just thinking you look the same but you aren’t the same. There’s a lot of differences still, you know?”