Next to the kitchen, two leather armchairs sat between the windows. A tree stump with books upon it served as a tea table. On the large oval carpet beneath the rickety dining table was a pair of ginormous combat boots, freshly scrubbed. There were only two chairs to lounge and eat in, so I assumed the warrior wasn’t one to have visitors often.

The very idea made me snort as I pictured the rugged male serving anyone tea and cakes.

He knocked me from my musings. “Have you found something amusing?”

“I’ve certainly found something,” I muttered with a smile he couldn’t see. “And it would seem he’s a bit of a contradiction.”

He huffed. “The booze stays untouched.”

“You don’t drink liquor?” Casting back through my muddled mind, I couldn’t remember seeing him with a drink in the tavern.

“No. Take a seat.”

How he knew I was unsure of what to do with myself, I didn’t know. But I assumed it had something to do with those keen senses. So I did as I was told, grateful to have something to do at all when he turned with a plate in hand. A hand so large, it made the average-sized porcelain appear too small.

I fastened my gaze to the table, to the cutlery and glass of water already waiting. “Then wouldn’t it be better to get rid of it?” Unable to stop myself, I scolded gently, “Or perhaps not to take it at all.”

His lips curled as he set a giant cut of beef before me. “I find keeping temptation within arm’s reach at all times serves me better.”

I swallowed, though I hadn’t yet eaten a thing, and blinked at his broad back.

Forcing my eyes from his fluid movements, I sliced into the still-bloody meat. I half feared I could waste most of this eternal life just watching him. “So is this some type of wintry retreat for you?”

“It’s my home.” He dumped another piece of meat into the pan and a plate into the sink, already filled with soapy water. “The apartment is mine too, but it’s mostly used for…” He trailed off with an endearingly uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

“For taking someone, or…” I smirked and amended, “Perhaps multiple someones home?”

“For when I need to stay in the city.”

“The city is not too far from here,” I needlessly prodded.

“It is when you’re wounded or exhausted, and yes,” he relented, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the sink, “when you just want to fuck.”

Those thick arms, the muscle threatening to rip the crimson stitching of his tunic, almost distracted me from what he’d said. I wished they had. My nose crinkled at the thought of sharing that space, that bed, with even so much as a memory.

Hypocrite, I silently berated myself. I was being criminally absurd.