Page 35 of Pistols & Peonies

I frown back at her, then turn away, going through the motions of making more coffee rather than continuing to engage. She’s obviously trying to get a rise out of me, and I’ll be damned if I let her do it again. But even as I tell myself that, aggravation simmers beneath my skin at the way she goes right on eating her cereal, resuming scrolling on her phone like I’m not even in the room.

It’s infuriating. She’s infuriating. And it has everything to do with her drinking my coffee, nothing at all to do with how hard I’m getting at the sight of her half-naked.

That ass is just begging to be spanked into submission.

Fuck.

I set the coffee to brew, then turn to stride over to the fridge, pulling it open and grabbing a bottle of water from the shelf. “Do you always walk around in your underwear?” I grumble, flicking a glance in Violet’s direction as I twist the cap off and take a sip.

She drops the spoon into her cereal bowl and straightens, turning to face me fully. “Would you rather I be naked?” she asks, folding her arms and cocking a hip against the counter.

The mental image makes me choke on the sip I’m taking. I hack up a cough, then wipe my mouth off on a forearm, shooting her a glare.

She grins, wide and wicked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A growl rumbles in my chest as I re-cap the water bottle. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

She glances at the clock. “It’s barely six. I’m rarely even conscious at this hour.”

“Then why are you today?”

“Maybe I’m just enjoying a lazy morning.”

“Maybe you should enjoy it dressed.”

She rolls her eyes and spins back around, giving me the middle finger before bending over to eat and scroll again.

I should really look away, but I fucking can’t.

Her body’s a damn work of art. Those long legs are on full display, tattoos crawling up her thighs, over her ribs, and curling around her arms. Each one perfectly flows with the curves of her body, enhancing her natural beauty. My gaze tours her spankable ass and slender waist, tongue wetting my lips as it lingers on her full tits. They look like they’d fit perfectly beneath my hands. Her nipples are hard, pressing against the thin material of her tank top like a damn taunt.

Violet catches me in the act, her head suddenly snapping sideways. She glances down at the very obvious bulge in my athletic shorts, then back up, blue eyes colliding with mine. For a heartbeat we just stare at each other, the air between us so thick you could punch a hole in it.

I clear my throat and immediately deflect, pointing to the cereal box. “You know that stuff’s basically poison, right?”

“Says the guy who poured half a bottle of whiskey down his throat the other night,” she deadpans.

“Discipline is knowing when to indulge and when to restrain,” I mutter, glancing toward the coffee pot impatiently. It’s only halfway done brewing, and it needs to hurry the fuck up.

She snorts a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Sure thing, Commander.”

I frown, crossing my arms. “You make a habit out of eating sugar bombs for breakfast, mate?”

She flinches– just barely– but I see it. Every time I call her that, she has a knee-jerk reaction. She hates it. And I hate how she always manages to get under my skin, so turnabout is fair play.

“I make a habit out of eating whatever the fuck I want,” she snaps back, tone flat. “You don’t own me, Kane.”

Something primal stirs in my chest at the challenge. “We’re bonded, whether we like it or not,” I say, voice dropping low. “That makes you mine.”

“Since when?” she scoffs, lifting her chin. “If I remember correctly, you said we’d stay out of each other’s way, lead separate lives.”

“Things have changed.”

“Oh, have they?” she snorts.

“I know I’m not the only one who’s had trouble sleeping,” I say, leveling her with a stare. “Until last night, we were both walking around like zombies. It’s clear the bond is fucking with us.”

“So what are you saying?” She narrows her eyes, lip curling. “That we have to share a bed for the rest of our lives or we’ll slowly lose our minds and die of sleep deprivation?”