“And all that time, I thought you couldn’t stand me.” It just popped out. This was a motherfucking free-for-all.

“If I couldn’t stand you, why would I have let you work for me for three years?!”

“You barely ever looked at me for that entire time!”

“That was intentional.” He sounded so outraged. Like my lack of appreciation for his sacrifice was too much for him. “Alba, you’ve seen your ass. Do you know what it took for me not to ogle you when you showed up in those fucking T-shirt dresses you love?”

He had to be fucking with me. That was the only thing that made sense. He was fucking with me. “If you’re just going to mess with me then I’m going back to work.” I tried to push off the couch, but he kept me pinned to his chest. Then, like I weighed absolutely nothing, he lifted us both until he was sitting upright, his mouth right by my ear. I was so turned on I couldn’t make words.

“Let’s get this straight right now, your ass is a work of art.” It wasn’t a growl this time, it was lower than that and it made my insides buzz with want. His hands were clamped to my arms, and they were the only thing keeping me from shooting right up to the ceiling. But Mr. Ganas was not done giving me the rundown on what he thought about every one of my features. “So are your legs, for that matter. Your tits, your face, your entire fucking body.”

I sucked in a breath, my body reeling from the feeling of being bracketed by those powerful thighs. “I need you to know in no uncertain terms that I have never wanted anyone as badly as I’ve wanted you.” I could feel the ghost of his mouth brushing my ear, and lust tore through me like a knife. “I’ve fantasized about what I’d do to every inch of your body.” A gasp escaped my mouth as he barely brushed my neck with his lips. “I’d lick you so good, give that smart mouth something to scream about for hours.”

“Oh, God.” I arched my spine, pressing into him. I was needy, desperate. He made a smug sound, and pressed a quick chaste kiss to my jaw before pulling back. I almost cried from frustration.

“Tonight we’re just relaxing,” he informed me while I panted like I’d run a marathon. “You need a night off.”

In the last twenty-four hours Theo Ganas had threatened violence on my behalf, fed me, and was now whispering in my ear that he fantasized about licking me. I didn’t do drugs, so it couldn’t be that. But I had to be tripping.

“Theo, what the—”

“Shh, this is the episode where Spike runs away.” He pointed at the TV with the remote.