Page 29 of Riot

And maybe the muscles pressed against my arm. Riot didn’t complain that I was practically sitting in his lap, so I wasn’t budging.

“Are you sharing, or do I have to embarrass myself?” My gaze flicked from the bag to Riot’s face. He was gazing at me with a strange expression.

“Nothing you do would ever be embarrassing in my eyes.” He’d said it like he was genuinely confused by the concept.

It wasn’t a line. Riot had said it as fact, making me believe him.

A gust of evening heat moved between us.

“You can charm me all you want, but you’re divvying up the goods.” I poked him in his side. “Crack those containers open before I start chewing through the bag…or a customer, if one gets too close.”

My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t planned on working overtime, so I’d only packed a lunch, which I’d eaten six hours ago. A sandwich and crackers, with a bottled water to wash it down. Now, it felt as if my stomach was trying to eat its way out. For food, I would definitely tackle him. Arm wrestle. Naked wrestle. Didn’t matter.

Riot’s deep laugh rumbled through his chest. “I was just teasing you, hon.”

Hon. I liked how it sounded when Riot called me that. The word was full of warmth, the way he’d spoken to me like a friend since we’d met. I liked that Riot wasn’t all flirt. That would wear on my nerves pretty fast. Riot somehow kept a healthy balance, making me feel at ease.

Except for your catastrophizing not five minutes ago.

“Empanadas and yellow rice.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Is it weird I find your eyebrows sexy?” I asked. “Who gets turned on by brow movement? And I have no idea what that food is. I know rice. I’ve had it plenty of times, but it’s always been the boring long-grain kind.”

Riot leaned sideways, one brow slowly lifting. Entrapment. The bastard. “Nothing weird about it. Own what you like. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”

With his face so close, it would be so easy to kiss him, to gently bite his plump, lower lip and lick away the sting.

But Riot leaned away and pulled the containers from the bag. Steam lifted from the rice when he opened the lid. The smell wafted toward me as he opened the other container. Fried dough, meat, spice, and the seasoned rice.

I’d never smelled anything so incredible in my life. My mom was a decent cook but had never made anything that had me salivating like this. If anyone saw how badly I was drooling, they would think I was rabid.

“My god,” I said softly. “You’re either very nice or trying to get me into a van.”

“No van,” Riot said like a promise. His knee touched mine when he shifted to face me. It stayed there. “Bike.”

“Right. Sorry. I don’t want to mislabel your kidnapping.”

Riot scooped a forkful of rice and held it close to my mouth. “Taste.”

I looked at the fork then at him, a little confused. “Are you feeding me?”

His eyes held mine. “Yes. Open.”

“Well,” I said, my heart racing, “this is either sweet or still a part of your kidnapping plot.”

“Try it, hon.” He tapped my bottom lip with the end of the tines. “No need to be nervous. I would never drug such delicious food.”

I parted my lips. The fork slid in. Warm, moist rice, soft and seasoned all the way through. I chewed slowly, appreciating the different flavors waking up my taste buds. I groaned, my eyelids fluttering closed.

“Oh my god.” I smacked my thigh with my palm. If this kind of food was involved, Riot wouldn’t have to kidnap me. I would go willingly.

When I opened my eyes, he was watching me, looking pleased. “Good?”

I chewed, swallowed, then looked at him with feigned betrayal. “You can’t just feed me food like that.”

He leaned closer. “Like what?”

“Like the taste…and the-the smell. I become easily addicted to amazing things. I keep a stash of gummy worms hidden in my bedroom. It’s out of control. I need help.”