Well, except basically kidnap me and move me into his house without the option of me leaving.
For the first time since he left me, I seriously think about making a run for it. I have no idea where his house is, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t make it through the woods and hopefully find someone who will help me out. The thought gives me a chill.
I could leave. He left the front door unlocked. There’s really no reason why I couldn’t just make a run for it. My ankle is feeling better, and I bet that I could find help before he got back.
…and tell them what? That I escaped from Roque, the sexiest guy I’ve ever met? That he does things to my body I never knew were possible and that he makes me smile more than anyone else ever has? That, for the first time in years, I feel like someone is looking out for me and actually wants to take care of me and keep me safe?
Sure, I could do that.
But why? The part of me that wants to make a run for it is overshadowed completely by the part of me that knows that I’m in the best possible place. Roque isn’t going to do anything to hurt me. He’s shown me that time and time again. He’s on my side, more than anyone ever has been in my entire life, and I have the distinct feeling that he’ll always have my back.
It was a stupid thought. No, it’s not traditional, but that doesn’t matter. My marriage with David was traditional, and it doesn’t take a genius to see just how fucked up that was. Things with Roque are different. They’re better. I can feel it.
Grinning to myself now, I take a sip of wine and keep working. Now that I know what I want, which is to stay with him, I want to surprise him when he gets home. I want him to come in and love how delicious it smells in here. He’ll see that I didn’t make a run for it.
I just wish that I knew when he was coming back.
I’ve made this recipe so many times that I practically know it by heart, which means that I have the chicken in the pan in no time at all. There’s some asparagus in the fridge, and I snap off the ends while the chicken cooks. I’ll roast it with garlic and serve it with the chicken. Now we just need some bread, but I know that I don’t have time to make it.
But I could whip up some biscuits. That sounds amazing, and I immediately turn to start digging through cupboard for some flour.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to look in the upper cupboards, but it’s a better option than climbing on the counter and accidentally falling off. It’s because I have my head in a cupboard and the music cranked up that I don’t hear him come into the kitchen.
“Holy fuck, it smells good in here.” His voice cuts through my thoughts and I gasp, turning around to see him. He looks tired, but sexy as hell, and the fact that he came back home to me and didn’t leave me fills me with excitement.
And hope.
“Yeah? You like?” Even though I try to act nonchalant, I’m sure that he can easily see through it and tell that I’m happy to see him. I have a stupid grin on my face and I can’t help but squeal when he crosses the kitchen to me, pulling me close to his chest.
I don’t know that I’m ever going to get tired of the way his heart feels when I’m snuggled up close to him. Closing my eyes, I lean against his chest, snuggling close under his arm. He’s so warm, and so strong, and knowing that he wants me?
It’s heaven.
“I love everything going on in here right now.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head, and I look up at him, wanting more, but he pulls back just a bit. I’m still in his arms, but he’s moved away enough that he can look at me. “You stayed.”
It’s a question as much as it is a statement, and I nod. “Of course I did. Did you not think that I would? Did you think that I would leave?” I don’t want to admit to him that I thought about it, even for a second. There’s no way that I would ever tell him that I’d considered making a run for it.
“I had my doubts. This wasn’t exactly traditional, you know.”
Oh, I know. But I also know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. Ever. I want to tell him that, but before I can get a word out, he sniffs.
“Chicken a la piccata?” He asks, looking around the kitchen. “I hope that’s what it is, because it’s my favorite food.”
“Is it?” Warmth courses through me and I lean into his chest again. I just want to feel his strong body. “Because I’m getting hungry, but there’s something else that I want first.”
I’ve never put myself out there like this, and I hope that he doesn’t shoot me down. I’m barely holding my breath, afraid to breath, but he reaches down and lifts my face so that I’m looking at him.
“Don’t you want to know how it went?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, like he can’t quite believe that I wouldn’t want to know all of the details. His eyes search my face and I reach up, lightly running my fingers over his gorgeous lips.
Holy hell, I know what those lips can do, and just the thought of them on my body makes me wet. Squeezing my legs together, I try to ignore the desire building in me and pay attention instead to
