Page 27 of Cry, Little Dove

“Think about what?” I flutter my lashes at him.

“Stabbing me.”

“I wouldnever.”

He sighs. “I’m faster and stronger than you. You’ll get yourself hurt and then I’ll have to stitch you up. So save us both the hassle and forget about it. Let’s just enjoy the food.”

Cain cuts into his steak with the same precision he sliced my skin with the scalpel. Gently. With elegance. He puts a piece of rare, pink meat in his mouth, chewing slowly, and a twist of heat flows through my center.

Why the hell am I getting wet from watching him eat steak?

Cain’s eyes close, the disrespect of the gesture dousing my arousal. He really doesn’t consider me a threat. How rude! And probably a correct assessment.

When I try the first bite of juicy meat, I understand why he’s savoring it. The beef melts on my tongue. The flavor is rich, earthy and wholesome, incomparable to any steak I had before. I always buy the cheapest cuts, and this doesn’t even seem like the same meal.

“Oh my god,” I moan, immediately slicing off more. And more. A few bites of the side dishes in between. More meat.

When my plate is empty, I notice Cain staring at me and my cheeks light up. I hide behind my napkin. Has he been watching me the entire time while I was stuffing my face like a starving animal?

“You make the same noises while you eat and when you come,” he says too nonchalantly.

I toss the napkin on the counter, seething. “Is that all you think about?Sex?”

“I do think about sex an awful lot when you’re around, Erica. But that ain’t all.”

“Go on then! What else rattles around in that primitive caveman brain of yours?” I lean forward and poke him in the forehead.

His mouth curves as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t ask questions if you don’t want an honest answer.”

“Oh, but I do! What can you possibly say that might shock me? That you’re going to kidnap me? Fuck me? Hold me hostage?” I let out all my flippant anger and confusion in a sarcastic laugh. “Been there, done that, Cain!”

“Alright.” His intense stare sends a shiver down my spine. “Right now, I’m thinking about buying more wagyu because you enjoyed it that much.”

My jaw goes slack.

He gets up to collect our plates and cutlery, sorting them into the dishwasher. “And now, I’m thinking that I’ll have to dust off the unused side of the walk-in closet, so you have a space for your stuff.”

What the fuck? Is he trying to throw me off?

He reaches out in a slow gesture and takes my hand. Tingles sweep through my belly as his thumb caresses over my knuckles until he stops at my ring finger.

“Now, I’m thinking that I forgot to measure your ring size while you were sleeping and I don’t know which size to get for your engagement ring,” he says, voice husky.

“Mywhat?” I squeak.

“Well, your wedding ring, too, but that comes later. Step by step, darlin’.” He pats my hand. “Have a lil patience.”

I rip my hand from his. “I amnotmarrying you, curly!”

He smirks, pupils blown as if he’s looking at something super adorable, like a fluffy kitten. The urge to murder him increases by a thousandfold.

“Curly?” he asks innocently.

“Because of your stupid hair.” I gesture at his head.

“Cute.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I like it.”

Fucking great. He likes it.

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