Page 40 of Bene

She couldn’t forget that.

“Cleaning up after a meal I cooked, actually. Showing off what I learned last year at George Brown College.”

Something appreciative and approving colored up his handsome features. “A chef?”

“That’s what I’m trying to be.”

Another one of those low whistles split through his lips.

“And she cooks …” He pressed his hands together in front of his chest as though he were praying while glancing upward. “Killing me here, Jesus.”

Vanna’s laughter lit up their small corner of the bar again, and Bene grinned lazily as he moved to drop his hands to his sides again. It was then that she noticed the bandage on his right palm, covering most of the surface.

“What happened there?”

Bene didn’t even glance down like she did. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

He used the injured hand to grab the pool cue he’d rested against the wall before doing his fake prayer, nodding to the table as though his next words would make her forget that she had even asked her question. “So, since you whooped my ass, and not the other way around, does that mean I still won’t get to take a bite out of yours later, or …?”

His tone dipped suggestively.

Vanna blanked.

Damn him.

His words did make her momentarily forget about her question, but only because her mind was suddenly filled with the image of this man biting her ass before he ate her pussy on his knees like a king kneeling for a queen at her throne. It was quite the picture, and she gave her mind credit for its efforts.

Bene smirked as he pushed away from the wall, the one stride between them closing in a blink as he leaned forward to put one hand somewhere behind her on the pool table. It was kind of hard to know what he was doing with him close enough that his chest pressed against hers, and the slight scruff on his jaw tickled her cheek when he tipped his head down to let his lips brush against her skin.

Then, she heard the telltale sound of the coin slot on the pool table being pushed in after he’d tossed in a couple of quarters.

“Another game?” he asked.

Vanna let out a shuddering breath. “Who’s killing who here?”

Because this man …

He was something else.

Bene winked when he straightened. “Good to know I’m not the only one, then.”

“Definitely not.”

And she hated that was the case.

Even if she would never say it out loud.

Right then, though Vanna had no doubt it would be bad for her—if not for her body, then for her heart later—she stood up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. That’s all it took—one soft, innocent kiss for his hands to find her waist, the wood of the pool cue biting into her hip as he pushed her against the edge of the pool table. His tongue darted into her mouth, slashing against hers in the best way while she was once again made to forget where they were because they’d simply kissed.

She didn’t mind it at all.

Until, of course, she heard someone mutter, “If you’re gonna do that, could you fucking move it outside to the alley like every other bitch that’ll get on her knees does, and give someone else the table?”

Vanna stiffened the second Bene’s lips stilled against her own. She physically felt the change in his posture, and sensed it, too. Like his playful, sexiness had left him just like that, and the heat in his gaze suddenly burned with more rage than it did lust when his stare met hers.

She didn’t know why she thought to speak to defuse the situation, but she still did. Or at least, she tried. “It’s fine. Just ignore him. It’s o—”