Page 50 of The Great Dating Fake Off
Busted. “Nah. Let me get your food.”
“They are so nice. I hope they didn’t make this just for me.”
I grab the bowl from near the stove.“No, Eloise made it special for Alessia, who is a picky eater. Like someone else I know.”
“At least I’m not the only one.”
When I finally track down a fork, I twirl it in her noodles and slide the meal across the island. “Mangia.”
“Italian for stuff your face.” She stares at me for the length of two slow breaths. “Thank you for arranging this.”
I lean forward on my elbows. “It’s no big deal.”
She twists her fork, but her eyes stay on me. “It is to me.”
I ignore the stirring between my ribs. Her gaze is wide open and earnest, and it makes me want to punch every person she’s ever known for making her believe something as small as a leftover dinner is a big deal.
As I wait for that swell of irritation to pass, I focus my attention on her makeup: the glittery silver shadow on her eyes, the blush on her cheeks, the way her lips seem fuller and softer than before. That is a feat, as they were already a taunting sort of plush.
“I’ll try to make it up to you,” she says. “I don’t know how, yet. But I’ll think of a way. What’s something you need but don’t have?”
Loaded question. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
She takes a huge bite and chews for a long while. It’s refreshing to see a woman eat like a normal person and not a demure squirrel.
“I needed food, you got me food,” she says after a swallow.“What’s something you need, Seb?”
The self-control to avoid you. “Nothing.”
Her probing gaze meets mine. “Okay. Something you want, then?”
That’s an even worse question, because what I want is for her to hop up on this stainless-steel island so I can drink my fill of her face up close as she wraps those legs around my waist. I want to know if her lips are as soft as they look.
That’s just the beginning of the list.
She is too many of my personal temptations, physically and otherwise, wrapped up in one pretty package. She’s sweet and friendly and cares so fucking much about Benji and everyone else at this wedding and what they think, even though she really doesn’t have to.
I let out a sigh. “For you to eat, woman.”
Nora looks down, but I can still see it: a smile so big the apples of her cheeks almost touch her eyes. “All right.”
I’m so caught between exasperation and physical pain that it puts a grin on her face.
She takes another big bite and lets out a contented sigh. “This is so good. Come here.”
“I’m fine. That’s all for you.”
With an eye roll, she grabs the bowl and circles the island. “Come on.” She twists the noodles around the fork as she nestles right in front of me, close enough to smell. Her perfume is deeply, enticingly floral. “You barely ate dinner, either. Open.”
I have no fight in me. My thumb lands on the underside of her wrist as I guide her fork-wielding hand to my mouth.
A smile blooms on her face as I chew. “What’s the verdict?”
“That”—I tap the edge of the bowl—“is a damn good vodka sauce.”
“Told you.” Her gaze flits from the bowl to my mouth, and then settles on my eyes. “Want to finish it off?”
The question lingers in the air between us as hunger rolls through me. But I don’t want to eat. It’s just a vague ache I feel everywhere.
