Page 68 of Unlocking Ruin

“Don’t make a joke out of this!” I lean forward on the counter, invading his space.

He bites his lip slowly. “I just warned them off,” he admits.

“What does that mean?”

“Do you think of them? Answer me honestly. Who did you dream about more? Them or me?”

I recoil, sliding away inch by inch.

“Me. I knew it.” He grabs the cereal box and tears open the lid. “Our encounter in the library has been a repeat dream.”

“Nightmare.”

“Some people are attracted to horror,” he argues with a winner’s smirk as he rips open the plastic bag. “You dreamed of me in my mask, surrounded by books as I cornered you. You dreamed of me, and one day you will be brave enough to tell me your fantasy. You dreamed of me, not them. Argument closed. I won.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” I grunt. Immediately, I close my eyes.

Why did I say that?

“I mean happy captive, happy existence.”

“Wife,” he purrs. “That’s the best idea you’ve had. Thank you, Freud, for allowing that slip.”

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

He grabs my bowl. “I like to pour the cereal first,” I tell him, as I take it back. I grab the cereal box. Lucky Charms tumble out, piling high.

He reaches for the milk.

“Wait,” I snatch the bowl, hugging it to my chest.

“Don’t tell me you eat it dry?” he asks wearily.

“You’ll judge me for this,” I say, as I begin to pick out the marshmallows.

“First, the Tootsie Rolls, and now, don’t tell me you only eat the marshmallows. No wonder you taste so sweet.” A smirk plays on his lips, but those sharp eyes watch my expression too carefully.

Grabbing the box, he adds Lucky Charms to his bowl. It’s just wrong to see the cereal pouring in after the milk.

Before he takes a bite, he fetches another bowl for me. Warmth spreads across my face. I fill it with the marshmallows, but then comes the twist. I pour milk over the remaining bowl of cereal.

“I don’t like marshmallows,” I confess, taking a bite. The sweet cereal’s delicious crunch spreads across my tongue, chilled by ice-cold milk. My stomach rejoices.

“Isn’t that the point of buying this brand?” His eyebrows lift slightly.

“I like the flavor they give the cereal, but biting into those hard, stale marshmallows makes my skin crawl.”

“You’re right; I am judging you.”

“What’s your favorite cereal?”

He gazes at the bowl, stirring his spoon in it. “I rarely eat cereal.”

My gaze travels across his body. With a physique like his, it’s no wonder he skips cereal.

“So why are you eating it now?” I ask, as he pushes the spoon into his mouth.

Look how his lips are tasting that spoon, drinking down the cereal. Why is that a turn-on?