Page 105 of Mated
She takes his hand in hers, her eyes still locked on his face. “Lydia. Please.”
He dips his head as they step apart.
Mom seems to shake herself and she steps into the doorway, holding the panel wide. “My goodness. Come in. Come in. Dinner is about done. I figured we could eat on the patio.”
We ease inside past her and she closes the door with a soft snick. The finality of that motion echoes in my ears.
Tanner’s arm brushes mine as we trail her deeper into the house toward the kitchen.
The smaller room is balmy from the heat of the stove, but every ounce of steam is mouthwatering and my stomach grumbles.
“Cornbread, too?” I ask, sniffing.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Yes. Now go take some plates out to the table.”
I grab a few from the cabinet and show Tanner where the silverware is. We slip out the open sliding glass doors onto a shady patio of aged red brick. The table has already been cleared save for a few citronella candles, and their aroma is another familiar scent.
Especially in the South.
I peer up at him as he follows behind me, laying out each silver utensil on a napkin. “Well?”
He snorts. “Ask me that when we leave.”
My face flames and I cradle the last plate to my chest. “That bad?”
He turns to me fully, his eyes somewhere between hazel and gray. One of his large hands flows over my neck, holding me. “It’s been a long time since I had to deal with parents, kitten.” Again that damn endearment sinks into me with heat. “But even if she hates me, I’ll endure a lot worse.”
There is so much honesty in that statement. So much force.
I stare at him, lips parting.
He growls and drops his head to mine, lips warm and hungry. I arch up on tiptoe and kiss him back, just as needy for his touch. His scent.
When he eases back, our breathing is harsh in the space between us and I know my face is red. But god. Somehow I want him more than I have.
He rubs his nose along mine, the motion cat like. Sensual.
“Nisha?” Mom calls from inside.
I break apart, legs quivering. Tanner grins down at me, and I know he can scent my need.
Because I can damn sure smell the spice of his.
I lay down the final plate and step back into the kitchen.
Mom raises a brow but merely jerks her thumb at the dishes already on the counter. “You going to help carry these heavy things or kiss your boy?”
There is a stilted cough from outside, and I flip Tanner off behind my back. “Sorry, Mom.”
She clicks her tongue, grabs the platter of still hot fried chicken, and walks to me. Her darker eyes glitter in the warm amber glow of the kitchen. “That one is trouble, Nish.” She glances back out the doors. “But so very pretty.”
My face flames and I choke. “Mom!”
She chuckles and moves out onto the patio. “Just speaking the truth, girl. Just speaking the truth.”
As I grab a large plate of cornbread squares, I can’t help but watch Tanner through the glass and sigh.
Well. She isn’t wrong.
