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Easiness teased the edges of Elena’s demeanor, though there was no missing the new weight that pulled between us. “You can make me a plate, but only because I need to get the pie into the oven. I have it preheated, so I just need to slide it in.”

Fuck me.

Why did every word coming out of her mouth hit me like suggestion?

“Deal. But I’m doing dishes, and you aren’t gonna argue.”

Elena laughed. “So bossy.”

I grunted and grabbed the plates she left on the counter, pulled out a big serving spoon from the drawer and slapped two big dollops of mashed potatoes onto our plates, then used the same pronged fork to place our steaks beside the creamy piles.

All while Elena pranced over to the refrigerator like she was floating on clouds, barely slipping by me since the area was so cramped, humming under her breath as she jerked the door open and dipped inside.

She produced a bowl with premade salad and set it onto the island.

“A little of this, too.”

Then she dipped back in and reemerged with a pie dish, taking off the lid and drifting back my direction.

Wisps of her scent filled my nostrils as she eased back to the stove.

“Scooch,” she commanded, knocking her hip into mine, though it only reached me mid-thigh.

I shuffled back, and she immediately leaned over to place the pie into the oven.

My mouth pooled with hunger, wanting to glut on it all.

“There we go.” She straightened and closed the oven door. Reached up and punched numbers into the timer.

By the time she turned, I’d managed to shake myself out of the stupor, and I jutted my chin toward the chairs on the other side of the island. “Sit.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Ah, for once we aren’t arguing?” The jesting was low.

“Orgasms make me hungry.” She hopped onto the stool.

I nearly choked on my tongue.

“Fuck, Elena, you can’t be talking like that.”

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”

Lying was pretty much all we ever did.

“Yeah, well, we don’t have to torment each other, either, do we?”

She snorted an incredulous sound. “Just the sight of you is torment, Trevan Niles.”

Emotion closed off my windpipe, and I slowly eased around the island, a fool who couldn’t stay away. I hooked a knuckle under her chin. “I never want to hurt you.”

Big, hazel eyes blinked, the quips melting away.

“You’re worth all the pain. Every bit of it,” she whispered.

Then she grinned. “And besides, I’m feeling a whole lot better this evening.”

I grunted at her, though for some godforsaken reason, it was playful. “You really know how to do a man in.”