“It feels good to have things, doesn’t it?” I asked as she selected a show and hit play before reaching for her plate.

I did the same, but waited for her to twirl her pasta, then stab a piece of shrimp and slip the fork in her mouth.

The moan she let out was damn near erotic.

“Good?”

“Why did you go into business when you could have become a personal chef and cooked like this for me every night?”

“Better money.”

“Hey, you don’t know how much I’d be willing to pay for this.” She did another twirl and shoved that in her mouth before she even finished chewing the first forkful.

“Luckily, you can have it for free anytime you want,” I said, finally tasting the food myself.

I had to admit, it was one of the best recipes I’d tried out. And I wasn’t even usually a big pasta fan.

“Okay. Now you have to pay attention. This one is pretty action-packed,” Saff said, gesturing toward the TV with her fork.

I did that, sneaking the occasional look over at Saff, just enjoying her being right there, in my apartment on my couch, eating off of my plates, sipping on my whiskey.

It was almost, for a little while, like she belonged there.

“Where’d this come from?” she said, finally finished with her food, and a third of mine, and grabbing something off the end table.

“Looks like a book to me,” I said, trying to play it cool. Even if I’d secretly been reading a few chapters each night since I’d bought them.

“Duh. I see it’s a book. But why are you reading this book?”

“It came highly recommended.”

It had. The lady at the bookstore had gushed about it.

“Yeah, but…” She paused, flipping open the dust jacket to look at the synopsis. “I’ve been waiting for this to come out,” she told me. “I just haven’t gotten around to get to the store. I almost bought it online, but I always try to, you know, support the bookstores.”

I lost her less than two minutes later as she casually flipped past the copyright and title pages. Then promptly got sucked into the first page.

I went ahead and put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher before making my way back over, finding her sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her spine in a C-shape as her eyes frantically moved over the page.

I had to admit, I’d gotten pulled right into that book too.

Kicking off my shoes, I sat down across the couch, reaching for her and pulling her between my legs.

“What are you doing?” she asked, only half paying me any attention.

“Getting comfortable,” I said, positioning her against my chest.

And feat of all feats, she didn’t try to move away. She just relaxed against me as she kept flipping pages.