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“You mad, Beans?” he whispered.
“Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. I saw you looking out the window, and it seems like you’re taking your aggression out on that pasta.”
I dropped the ladle to rest in the bowl and set the plate down because it was hard to breathe with him this close to me.
Cedar and sage were flooding my senses.
But it was more than that. It was just Romeo. His whole essence was overpowering.
All-consuming.
My heart was beating loudly in my ears.
“Did you sleep with her?” I had no right to ask, but I wanted to know.
He chuckled before leaning closer and nipping at the lobe of my ear. He turned me around so we were facing one another. “Are you serious right now? You think I finished that grueling workout and then had a quickie with Monica before coming over here?”
“How would I know what you do?”
“Would it matter to you if I slept with her?” he asked, his fingers moving to my jaw and his thumb tracing along my bottom lip.
It was hard to think straight. “I don’t want to make you dinner if you just fucked my teenage bully.”
“I love when you say fuck.” His lips turned up in the corners. “What did she do to you?”
“She always made fun of me for being too skinny in high school. She had it out for me.”
“Because she was clearly jealous. You’re gorgeous, and she’s insecure. And the answer to your question is, no. I didn’t fuck her tonight—haven’t been with her in over a year. I used to date her, and it was a volatile relationship. She slashed my tires when I ended things with her. I wanted away from that shit.”
“So why was she there?”
“She showed up at my door and asked if I could sign her younger brother’s boxing gloves. He used to train with me, andhe’s away at school now. She wanted to send them to him because she said he’s excited about the fight.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he said, his tongue shifting back and forth across his bottom lip.
“You done being jealous?”
“I was never jealous.” I tried not to smile.
“Sure, you weren’t. So, are you going to feed me now?”
I studied his features, and for the first time, I saw how tired he looked. He’d worked out for hours today, with not one but two intense workouts. The poor guy was probably ready to fall over, and here I was, acting completely irrationally.
But he was still standing so close to me. I put my hands on his hard chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“You just stormed up the stairs and beat the shit out of that wooden spoon, so yeah, I’m going to make you say it.”
I tipped my shoulders back, and my gaze locked with his. “I was jealous. Is that what you want to hear?”
