I watch as she pours the mixture into a bread pan, carefully scraping the bowl and leveling out the batter.
I’m grateful Drew bought food for the week, but I’d much rather wake up to Viola baking in my kitchen.
She grabs a coffee cup from the counter and sips it.
“You went to Starbucks and didn’t bring me anything?” I arch a brow, knowing damn well I don’t drink her fancy lattes and whatever.
She glares while flashing a crooked smile. “No. Drew’s paying for my services.”
“All it takes is Starbucks?” I smirk. “Duly noted.”
She playfully rolls her eyes at me, and I laugh. The oven beeps, and she places the bread pan inside, which gives me a nice view of her ass as she bends over.
She notices and immediately frowns. “No mischief,” she warns.
“I never agreed to that.”
“I’m here to help you with your recovery, and that’s all,” she states in a firm tone, but I don’t believe a word of it. I know her way too well. She’s only saying it aloud to convince herself.
“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”
She furrows her brows, keeping a safe distance from me, knowing damn well that if I were able, I’d show her exactly what I mean.
“How is it that you bruise your ribs and get all cut up, and you’re still unable to behave yourself?”
I step toward her, trying to ignore the pain in my rib cage, and wrap my arms around her waist. She watches my every move, her breath hitching the closer I lean into her. My lips brush against hers, tasting the sweet coffee flavor against mine.
I hear her groan as I deepen the kiss, but pull away before going any further.
“Nothing could come between my lips and your body, princess. Bruised ribs or not, I’ll suffer through just to be close to you.”
She smiles up at me, but it’s soon replaced with a frown. “I bet you were the worst patient ever.”
“Only around the hot nurses.” I wink.
She groans again. “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”
I press my lips to hers again. “And what fun would that be?”
After the banana bread is done, she sets it down to cool. It smells fucking amazing, and I’m tempted to start eating it right out of the pan.
“You have to wait,” she warns. “It tastes best when it’s just the right temperature. Warm but not hot.”
“That’s torture,” I whine as we sit on the couch with only a small throw pillow between us. “Coming in here, smelling up my house with banana bread and coffee and you, and I can’t have any of it.” I pout, getting a laugh out of her.
“I guess it’s time you learn one of life’s hard lessons.” She puckers her lips. “Travis King doesn’t always win.”
I toss the pillow at her; her laughter brings a smile to my face. “The king always wins, princess.”
“I’m not so sure…” She pinches her lips and taps a finger against her bottom lip. “But making you work for it just might be what you need to shrink that big head of yours.”
“Never had an issue with working for what I want.” I grab her hand and kiss the finger she was just tapping against her mouth. “But I was hoping we were done playing games now that…” I let the words rest on my lips in hopes she gets what I’m trying to say.
“That what?”
“That we can be in the same room together without the urge to kill one another.”
“Just because you kissed me doesn’t mean the urge went away.” She spits it out without missing a beat, making me smile at her words.
“Well, I guess some things never change.” I pull her closer, forcing her to be right next to me. We’re both on the couch, facing each other, neither caring what’s on the TV anymore. “Like my feelings for you, Viola. Since I was twelve years old. I always knew there was something between us, even before I wasn’t old enough to understand what those feelings meant.”
“Yeah, I had feelings for you, too.” She pauses with a grin. “Feelings of hate.”
“Viola…” I hiss under my breath, knowing damn well she’s making this much harder than it has to be. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“Because it’s fun to see you sweating for once,” she answers honestly, flashing a victorious smile.
“Well, mission accomplished, smartass. Now would you drop the act and just listen to me?”
She exhales and then smiles, her eyes softening. “Are you asking me to go steady?” Her voice is high pitched like an exaggerated cheerleader on those ridiculous chick flicks she watched when she was in high school.
I drop her hand and sigh. “I give up.”
She licks her lips, holding in a smirk. “Defeated the King! Finally!”
“You’ve been waiting twelve years to say that, haven’t you?”
“Pretty much.” She flashes a smug grin. “In fact, everything in my life has led up to this very moment.”
“Fuck, you’re a sassy thing today. What happened to the sweet little girl I first met?”
“You corrupted her,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Can’t say I’m sorry about that.”
She looks at me as if she’s in deep thought, and I try to read her. I know I have a lot of proving to do, but I’ll do whatever it takes to gain her trust again.
“I don’t want anyone else, Viola,” I say genuinely, knowing she needs to hear it. “I never truly did. It’s always been you.”
“I want to trust you,” she says softly. “But I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?” I ask, hoping I can ease some of her fears.
“I’m scared of getting hurt again. Scared Drew will throw you across the room. Scared I’ll never fully be able to trust you.”
“Viola, listen to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to take those fears away. Don’t worry about Drew. I’ll talk to him and do whatever it takes to gain his trust, too. But don’t be scared of getting hurt. I can’t promise there won’t be times I fuck up, but I would never intentionally hurt you.” I take her head in mine again. “But I will promise you one thing. I won’t be like those guys you read about in your romance novels. I won’t feather the bed with red rose petals, make love to you under the stars, or write an original song and sing it to you on top of Butternut Hill.”
She chuckles, tilting her head to look deeper into my eyes.
“Because I’m not like those guys in your romance novels. I’m the guy who’ll fuck you against the wall, wrap my hand around your throat, and pull your hair as you scream out my name. I’m the guy who’ll have you waking up on a bare mattress because we fucked the sheets off it in the middle of the night. I’m the guy who can’t sing a tune to save my soul, but I’d tell you every single day of my life how much you mean to me. So, before you make your decision, you need to know everything it entails.”
I watch as her throat moves, her tongue running along her lips as she wets them. Blinking, she looks back up at me with glassy eyes.
“I don’t want you to be those guys in my romance novels,” she states. “They’re usually flawless with perfect abs and hair, and they always say the right things, and they’re always hung even when they’re soft…”