Page 94 of Deadly Obsession

I smile because there are a lot of things we still don’t know about each other. Except, I know he loves whiskey. I always taste it on his kisses. I love the taste.Histaste.

Do I have a taste?

“Depends. When I go out to bars or clubs, I get vodka soda with cranberry. For brunch I do mimosas or espresso martinis. If I’m chilling at home, wine. Tell me your favorite color—and black doesn’t count.”

He pouts. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because I said so.”

He snarls at me, appearing adorable and grumpy instead of angry and intimidating, which is what he was probably going for.

“I love the color red,” I answer first since Elias is being difficult. “It’s seductive. To me, it represents power and love.”

And I look fantastic in a short red dress.

“Now you.”

“Since you won’t let me pick black, I choose teal.”

My mouth forms an ‘o’, surprised by that response.

“It’s the color of your eyes.”

Eyes that I roll. “You’re such a cheeseball.”

He shrugs, not at all concerned by giving a cheesy response.

“Favorite food?” I ask.

“Hot dogs”

I scrunch up my nose.

“Specifically, Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs because my mom used to take Lance and me out to Coney Island every summer.” He looks down at his hands while revisiting this memory. “We’d start the day eating a hot dog covered in chili and cheese, then we’d get on every single ride until we were both sick to our stomachs.”

He smiles sadly before looking up at me.

“What about you?”

“There’s this dish my mom makes. Tater tot casserole. It has chicken—or you can make it with beef—sour cream, cheese, and a can of cream of mushroom soup. It became tradition to have it when we were celebrating something. It could be anything: an A on a test, a pay raise, passing my driving test. I could make it for you sometime.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile. “I’d love that.”

We spend about five minutes going through a few other favorites, including books, movies, TV shows, and music. We even talk about pet peeves.

Mine: loud chewers.

Elias: people being late.

“Tell me about your family. Your childhood,” Elias says, moving on to the deeper stuff.

I shrug. “There’s not much to tell. My life’s boring... well, it was before I metyou.”

“I can be boring.” He gives me that adorable half smile that makes me swoon.

I scoff. “Maybe when you’re sleeping.”

Except not even when he’s sleeping. He mumbles and tosses and turns. If I wake up first, sometimes I’ll just watch him. It’s when he’s his most vulnerable.