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"There's no way I can eat all this," I say when he sets an omelet before me. Piled high with veggies and cheese, it's almost the same size as the plate it's on.
He just smiles at me before pulling two bottles of water out of the fridge and setting them on the island beside me. Then he grabs his plate, which has just as much food as mine, and leans back against the counter across from me.
"Eat," he says.
"Can I have my shirt?"
He shakes his head instead of answering me.
I huff in annoyance, pretend I don't see him smirk, and dig into my food. It's so good my mouth waters. Before I know it, I've eaten half of my omelet, and I'm pretty sure I am actually going to finish the rest of it.
"You can cook," I say.
"Surprised?"
Am I surprised?
"No, not really." To be honest, I don't think anything about him would surprise me. He's a mystery to me, yet I feel like I already know everything I need to know about him. I don't, though. Not really.
"Do you like your job?" I blurt out.
He stops eating, his fork hovering near his mouth. He narrows his eyes at me.
"I'm just curious," I say defensively.
"I'm not talking to you about my job, Mila." He speaks quietly, but his hard-ass-cop tone leaves no room for confusion. He's dead serious.
"Why not?" I push, though I'm not really sure why. I know he works for the ATF and that he spends a lot of time dealing with gangs and cartel members, trying to stop them from getting their hands on guns. I assume he's good at his job. And I know he doesn't even talk with Tahani about what he does. She's told me before that every time she asks him about it, he tells her he's not telling her anything about his job and then changes the subject. I expect him to do the exact same thing to me.
"Because there are some fucked up people in the world," he says instead, tension pouring from him. "And I work with some of the worst of them. You don't need to know anything about that shit. It's dark, and it's ugly. It's exactly the opposite of what you are and has no place in your life. Ever."
I swallow hard, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. I want to pry for more, but he suddenly seems different. He seems to know a little bit too much about the dark, the ugly, and bad people. That makes me ache for him. I can't imagine doing what he does, dealing with criminals all the time.
"You think I'm the opposite of dark and ugly, huh?" I say instead. It's the only thing I can think of to lighten the mood.
"You're fucking beautiful, Mila." He shakes his head, his expression serious, far more serious than the teasing question demands. "I've thought so since the day I met you, and you've only gotten more beautiful since."
His emphatic response sends another little bolt of warmth through me.
Two weeks, Mila, I remind myself. He's only yours for two weeks.
That reminder makes me feel almost…sad. I shy away from the emotion and the little niggling doubt that comes with it. There's no way I'm going there. This is just a fling. Two weeks of amazing sex, and then we go our separate ways.
"Why'd you leave your ex?" he asks a few minutes later, watching me eat my omelet. His is already gone. He finished it in about two seconds flat. I don't know how he has a body like that if he always eats so much.
"He asked me to move in with him until I found my own place but conveniently forgot to mention that he was fucking my boss. I walked in on them the day I was supposed to move in." I set my fork aside, my appetite gone. "I guess he wasn't as good with waiting for me to be ready as he said he was."
"Jesus," he says.
"Yeah."
"He's a fucking idiot. You're worth the wait, Mila."
"I don't even know what I was waiting for, honestly." I stare down at my plate, trying to figure that one out. I didn't have a strong attachment to my virginity or anything. I just…I don't know. It just never seemed right with Damien for some reason. I guess now I know why, right?
"Deep down, you knew he didn't deserve that part of you," Roman says.
"Maybe," I sigh, veering back on track. "My boss fired me on the spot."
