Page 34 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Another tally to the reasons I want to kill the man Stella was going to marry.

Garlic breath? Really? Does he not know there are things called mouthwash and it’s not permanent? Also garlic is lovely and flavorful and an ingredient you should use while measuring with your heart.

I bet Duncan thinks salt and pepper is spicy.

Fuckwad.

I stand up and walk around the table, pulling an empty chair right next to Stella. I don’t sit though. Instead I go back to the kitchen and make another plate of pasta, making sure to put an ample amount of Alfredo on the angel hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you options,” I say as I sit next to her. “Now, if you truly don’t like Alfredo, or don’t like the lingering taste it gives you, then by all means, don’t eat it. It’s your world, Tiger, and I’m just visiting. But, if you want to eat the sauce, then eat the fucking sauce. Pour it on your pasta. Dip your garlic bread into it and go double garlic and make vampires scared of you.”

That makes her laugh. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her, but one I want to hear all the time.

“I know you’re still processing everything that’s happened. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But he’s not here anymore. He’s not here to control you, or tell you what to do, or what you can eat. You’re Stella fucking Banks. You attack home invaders with shoes. You hold your head high when everyone else would be crumbling. And you eat the fucking Alfredo sauce.”

She looks at me, a smile slowly forming on her face. “I’m Stella fucking Banks.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “Damn right you are.”

With a nod she takes a piece of the garlic bread and rips aportion off, gently dipping it in the creamy sauce on top of the pasta.

“Oh, come on, Tiger. Get in there.”

With a giggle she does, coating it fully before dropping it into her mouth.

“Ermygod,” she says. “That’s sooooo good.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say with a smile, pride swelling in my chest as I watch Stella dip the rest of the bread.

Pride? Over someone eating food? What the hell is wrong with me?

Just as I’m about to shake away that feeling, I watch as Stella tilts her head back and drops the bread into her mouth before letting out the most sensual moan I’ve ever heard in my life.

Fuck…

Does she know what she’s doing? She’s not making eye contact with me or making any other movements to indicate that she’s doing this on purpose. She’s just genuinely enjoying her meal.

And I hate to admit that I’m enjoying the show.

“Want some?” she asks, dunking another piece in the sauce and holding it out to me.

I shake my head. “I’m good. That’s all yours, Tiger.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

She takes a bigger bite, which leaves a small trail of the white sauce at the corner of her mouth.

Head out of the fucking gutter. You aren’t a fourteen-year-old boy.

Apparently my dick doesn’t get that message, because it’s starting to stir again as I watch her slowly swipe it away before sucking it off her finger.

Fuck my life.

What is this woman doing to me? She’s eating bread, for fuck’s sake. Nothing about this is supposed to be sexy. Or any sort of emotion-stirring. Between this feeling and the thoughts earlier of Stella in the shower, it’s abundantly clear that I need to get the hell out here.

I’ve now spent in total two days with her. The wedding day and today. And in those two occasions, she’s sparked feelings I’m not at all comfortable with.

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