I wanted to ask about Adrik’s but knew I couldn’t. “Maybe one day you’ll get to settle down a little.” I bumped my hip into his. “For now, I’m starving, and things could get ugly if I’m not fed soon.”

His lips twitched. “It’ll be delivered soon.”

I looked around me. “Do you have telepathy? I didn’t see you tell or ring anyone?”

“They would have seen me arrive. I ordered for you.” He winced. He actually winced. Worried I wouldn’t want him to take control, maybe?

I would not think about him taking control in the bedroom.

I wouldn’t.

Shit, it was in there now, and I had to abort the thought quickly because Adrik was staring at me like I’d lost it. Which was a possibility.

I cleared my throat. “No, that’s fine… I’ll eat anything, really. As long as it’s not anything with pineapple.” I screwed up my nose. “I hate that stuff.”

“On pizza?”

“Yes! People who have it on pizza are monsters.”

With a laugh, he waved me over to a table I hadn’t seen. “I eat on pizza.”

I went to sit down and nearly missed the seat, which caused Adrik to chuckle some more. “You don’t.”

“Not really. I do not eat pizza.”

My jaw dropped. “You don’t eat pizza?”

He shook his head, smiling.

I blinked. Adrik had heard me rave about it, only for me to discover he didn’t consume the best thing on earth besides chocolate muffins…. I was at a loss for words.

“We’re changing that,” I stated.

He quirked a brow. “We are?”

“Hell yes, we are. Next time we’re going to get pizza for dinner, and I’m going to watch you eat it. Okay, that sounds creepy, but you know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “Da.”

There was a buzz, and Adrik stood and walked over to a massive desk to press something. “That desk is huge.”

He faced me and stared. I said desk, right?

“You do not like?” he asked.

We were still talking about his desk, right?

“I’m suddenly confused,” I admitted.

He stared some more. Until he must have registered what I’d been thinking and grinned, shaking his head at me. “I like big things.”

I snorted.

He glowered, but the venom of it wasn’t there. “Big work areas.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I teased.

He stalked toward me, rested one hand on the table in front of me and the other on the back of my seat. He leaned in close. I ate my heart since it had jumped into my mouth, excited by his close attention.

“What does this mean? Floats your boat?” His voice, his damn voice, was low and husky, and I wanted to drink it.