Page 133 of Sour Notes

Goddammit. No.

This isn’t about sex. I don’t want her to think I did all this to get into her pants for fuck’s sake.

I lean forward, not missing the way her breath hitches, but swerve at the last second, taking a second bite of her croissant instead.

“Hey! Bad dog. Bad, bad dog.” She pushes out of my arms with a laugh, grabbing the second one from the tray, double-fisting them.

“Don’t be greedy, Angel. Is that how you reward your man for saving your life? You could’ve drowned and, worse, ruined the world’s best breakfast pastry.” I smirk, stepping closer to her, hand outstretched in a grabby motion.

“Oh, that’s charming. You sound more bothered about the breakfast pastry’s demise than mine.” Glaring at me with mock outrage, she takes another bite of our croissant.

“Well, it doesn’t answer back, brat, now give me that.”

I dive under the water, reappearing directly in front of her to grab the second one she stole, sinking it between my teeth. Wrapping my palms around her waist, I pick her up again and spin her around, the sound of her laughter sending warmth through me.

Stopping before we both get dizzy, she wraps herself back around me like a koala, finishing up her food in my arms.

“Need some help eating that, smartass?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief when she tugs the croissant back out of my mouth, taking a bite.

“Hey, that one’s mine,” I protest, my fingers inadvertently digging into her ass.

“Fair’s fair. Besides, your hands are a little busy right now… what you gonna do about it, Wolfman?”

I growl, my hands gripping her tighter, and I catch the little flare of arousal in her nostrils.

She shakes her head, giggling, then holds it up to me to take a bite.

I readjust my hold, keeping her pressed tightly against me, shivers snaking down my spine at the sensation of her nails dragging through the hair at the nape of my neck.

Does she know she’s doing that? Does she want to keep touching me?

Scanning her face for any signs—hoping for something, anything, that proves she’s in this with me—I’m momentarily distracted by her slowly bringing the croissant back to my lips.

Our gazes lock, the air thickening with unspoken tension as she holds it there, feeding me the remainder, her finger accidentally slipping into my mouth with the last bite.

I freeze.

She freezes.

For a second, neither one of us breathes, before she slowly slides it out.

Yep, new core memory unlocked.

She’s feeding me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like what we have is real. Maybe that’s the problem… it’s starting to feel like it is.

30

MIA

“Was breakfast okay?” Swayze mumbles, voice muffled under something like fifteen pounds of solid, muscled arm, currently slung over his eyes.

Using it to my advantage, I do a quick recon mission. He’s entirely fucking with my work productivity stretched out on the pool lounger shining like a damn Chippendale. His tree trunk thighs are legit making my mouth water despite our very filling breakfast.

As far as ladyporn goes, this view ticks all the freakin’ boxes. His muscles sparkle more than any glittery vampire—Jesus, I’ve never thought this much about those movies before. I wasn’t even a fan of the books, but with those sparkly little water drops trailing down into black swim trunks… maybe, just maybe, I finally get the hype about glittering dudes.

Or maybe it’s just Swayze?

Fuck. This is messing with my head.