Page 153 of Sweet Nightmare

One eyebrow lifts. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re about to say. I don’t want to hear it.”

The corner of his mouth twitches again.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar.”

He walks closer.

Too close.

Close enough that I catch the clean, warm scent of his body wash beneath a faint trace of coffee. Whatever he’s wearing, it smells unfairly good for this hour of the morning.

He slowly settles onto the stool beside the counter and reaches for one of the plates Mrs. Han has prepared. Then he picks up a fork and holds it out toward me.

“Try it first.”

I stare at the fork.

Then at him.

“Me? Why?”

“Just to make sure.”

Just to make sure?

Mrs. Han slaps his back with a disapproving look, while Mika nearly chokes on her laughter.

I glare at Stephen.

The bastard.

“Are you implying I poisoned the food?”

He wiggles the fork. “I'm implying you’re the only person in this kitchen who looks capable of fucking with my food to take me out.”

I should be offended.

But I’m not.

He’s right. If we weren’t surrounded by witnesses, I probably would have considered it.

I ignore the obnoxious warmth spreading through my chest and lift my chin. “You’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t eat the eggs.”

I flash him a sweet smile before turning my back on him.

But I don’t get far. His hand closes around my wrist, stopping me.

The sudden contact sends a strange little spark through my skin.

I notice that his fingers are warm against my wrist.

What the hell?

I look down at his hand, momentarily forgetting how to form a coherent thought.