Page 80 of Hexed
She tears off a piece of her own snack and pops it into her mouth, her eyes closing, and then she fuckingmoans.
I clear my throat, my abs tightening and blood rushing to my dick from the noise.
Her gaze pops back open. “So good.”
“This looks like it will ruin my shit.” I gesture at my clothes.
“Don’t be a messy eater, then,” she retorts before popping another piece into her mouth and moaning again.
I stare at her instead of taking a bite, because watching her eat is like hearing your favorite symphony for the first time: a transcendent experience you never knew you were missing but somehow know you can’t live without.
I’ve never heard someone make food sound so sexy.
Glancing around, I check to see if anyone else is paying attention, because the thought of someone else hearing her this way, even though it’s innocent, makes me feel fucking crazy.
Those aremymoans.
Except they’re not.
“Enzo.” She snaps her fingers in my face. “Try a piece. It’s not that serious.”
I lift a brow and look at the funnel cake. “You mean you didn’t poison it?”
She grins. “Nah, just put a spell on it instead.”
“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
Venesa laughs. “I’m kidding. That’s not how witchcraft works. Besides, killing you by poisoning a funnel cake in the middle of a crowd isn’t exactly high on my list of things to do, so go ahead.” She reaches out and nudges the treat toward me again, her eyes wide and waiting. “Take a bite.”
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I want to watch you enjoy it.”
She’s about to be disappointed.But I do it to make her happy, tearing off a small piece and popping it in my mouth.
It tastes like fried sugar.
I must make a face because her smile drops. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s all right.”
She scoffs. “God, you’re a shit liar.”
“I’m just not a sweets guy.”
She stands, ripping the treat from my hand and taking it with hers to the trash can before throwing them both in.
Chuckling, I walk behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry, piccola sirena. You don’t need sweet treats to impress me. You’re impressive enough.”
She spins around, her body brushing mine as she does, and my stomach jumps, my fingers curling into the palms of my hands to keep from grabbing hold of her by the waist.
“Well, you’re the opposite of whateverimpressiveis,” she says.
“Excuse me?” My brows lift, and I rock back on my heels.
“What kind of person doesn’t like sugar?” she asks accusingly.
“Someone with superior taste, obviously.”
