Page 80 of Hungry As Her Python

She stared at me for a long beat before her gaze dropped to the stills.

Then she sighed, shaking her head and fighting a grin.

“Two heads are better than one.”

The smile that pulled at my mouth was slow, certain.

“Damn right, Sugar.”

I reached across the table, took her hand, and didn’t let go.

Tonight, we’d talk strategy.

Tomorrow, we’d hunt.

And when this was over, she’d never doubt who she belonged to again.

But first.

I stood up and moved in close, close enough that the scent of her—warm sugar and fried dough with that hint of magic—wrapped around me like a spell I had no interest in breaking.

I took her hand and pulled her to her feet, so she was right there in front of me.

Sweet. Soft. Irresistible.

“I know you wanna take things slow, so I’m asking, should I stay, or do you want me to go?”

She blinked at me, that perfect pink mouth parting just slightly.

My hands itched to cup her face, but I kept them loose at my sides.

She was a skittish creature sometimes, my Bella—like a stray cat who wanted to be petted but wasn’t quite sure if the hand was safe yet.

Her gaze darted away, then back to mine.

“You’d really go if I said so?”

“If you told me to.” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. “But you should know, I’d take my sweet damn time walking out that door.”

That earned me a little huff of laughter, and her shoulders relaxed. “You’re impossible.”

“No. I’m stubborn. And I’m yours.”

She swallowed, and that little flicker of doubt I’d been sensing from her—those walls she kept between us—wavered.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and coffee, the hiss and pop of the kettle settling down whispered in the air.

But all I could hear was her breathing. All I could smell was her sweet citrus scent.

She was everything. Everywhere.

I couldn’t help myself.

I reached out, brushed my knuckles down her cheek, slow enough she could lean away if she wanted.

She didn’t.

Thank the Goddess, she leaned into it.