Page 15 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
I swallow to avoid an embarrassing drooling situation and force myself to look into his eyes. Yet another mistake. He's staring at me with a head tilt and a smirk, highlighting his nice cheekbones and sharp jawline.
“See something you like?”
I hold up my hands. “Oh! No. Of course not. Didn't see anything. Nothing at all. Didn't like anything I saw, not that I saw anything.”
He narrows his eyes, and I bite my upper lip. “Of course, I didn’t not like anything because I didn't see anything.”
“Okayyy,” he says, trying to keep a serious expression.
I say trying because he is failing, big time. Doesn't matter what his lips or jaw are doing. His eyes are totally laughing at me. It's settled. Whatever deity made him—and certainly a god of some kind was involved—they should have given those eyes to someone less disagreeable.
“Stop making fun of me,” I complain.
“Stop making it so easy,” he tosses back, no longer hiding his amusement.
I scrunch my face and decide to press on. “You have to admit that I stopped you twice. Me, the scrawny little Indian guy, stopped you, the big American beefcake. I think I deserve some ice cream.”
I nod, agreeing with myself, then decide not to wait for his response. Making my way back into the kitchen, I grab some Ben & Jerry’s from the freezer.
Holding up the pint of New York Super Fudge Chunk and two spoons, I ask, “You going to make me eat this alone?”
He lets out an annoyed growl and starts stalking in my direction. “You are a menace to my macros,” he complains…while snatching a spoon from my hand.
If I can’t openly admire all those delicious muscles, at least let me be a bad influence.
I grin up at him as he digs out a generous spoonful. “You just don't want me to tell people you have weaknesses.”
He shrugs. “Probably not.”
Shoving the entire spoonful in his mouth, he slowly—ever so slowly—turns the spoon upside down and pulls it from his plush lips. He licks off the little bit of remaining chocolate, his Adam's apple bobbing seductively as he crunches through the chunky bits and swallows the ice cream. I suck in a deep breath, nearly choking on my own air before going in on a spoonful of my own. Two can play this game.
That's not true though. I have a sensitive filling in the back of my mouth, and when the ice cream hits the tooth in question, I gag and spit out the entire thing, spoon and all, onto the floor.
Grabbing the side of my face, I let out a low groan.
“You okay there, Mads?” Anthony asks, genuine concern in his voice. His hand covers mine, and I shudder at the juxtaposition of heat and freezing cold.
God, I am so embarrassing.
Shaking off his hand, I step back and straighten my shoulders. “I'm fine, Anthony. It seems that showing me how to defend myself against other people isn’t the most judicious use of our time together. Clearly, the person most dangerous to me is myself.”
Anthony lets out a fake-patient sigh. “True enough. Unfortunately, I can only help you with external threats. The internal threats are all on you,” he says while mouth-fucking another spoonful of ice cream.
I gulp, the sight of him sweaty and barefoot in my kitchen while eating ice cream somehow more pornographic than all my online habits combined. Fuck, I don't know which argument we’re on, but it's safe to say he won this round.
