King of Wrath (Kings of Sin #1) by Ana Huang

One of us always left when we saw the other, but I couldn’t turn the corner without my heart rate jumping in anticipation of colliding with Dante.

The truce was the best option for my sanity and blood pressure.

Plus, the one unguarded conversation we’d had so far had been…nice. Unexpected, but nice. There was a heart somewhere beneath Dante’s grumpy, scowly exterior. It may be black and shriveled, but it was there.

The numbers on my clock flipped from 12:02 a.m. to 12:03 a.m. My stomach emitted an angry growl at the same time.

After subsisting on nothing except a handful of hors d’oeuvres and champagne all day, it was finally rebelling.

I groaned again.

It was technically too late to eat, but…

What the hell. I couldn’t sleep anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, I tossed my covers off and tiptoed out of my room and down the hall.

I hadn’t had a midnight snack in years, but I was suddenly craving an old favorite food combo.

I flipped on the kitchen lights, opened the fridge, and scanned the contents until I located a jar of sliced pickles and a bowl of chocolate pudding on the bottom shelf.

A-ha!

I set my bounty on the kitchen island before I hunted for the last ingredient.

Dried pasta, condiments, cookies, seaweed crisps…I opened and closed the endless row of cabinets, searching for a distinctive cardboard tube.

The cabinets were so high I had to stand on tiptoes to see into the back, and my arms and thighs were starting to ache. Why did Dante have so much storage space? Who needed an entire cabinet of cooking oils?

If I didn’t—

“What are you doing?”

I jumped and stifled a scream at the unexpected voice. My hip banged against the counter when I whipped around, sparking a jolt of pain whose reverberations matched the suddenly frantic beats of my heart.

Dante stood in the doorway, his gaze bemused as it traveled between me and the open cabinet.

For once, he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie. Instead, a white T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, emphasizing the sculpted planes of his muscles and the deep bronze of his skin. Black sweatpants hung just low enough to elicit dirty thoughts before I quashed them.

“You scared me.” My voice came out breathier than intended. “What are you doing up?”

It was a stupid question. Obviously, he was up for the same reason I was, but I couldn’t think straight through the fog of adrenaline.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The rough drawl drifted toward me and settled low between my legs. “Guess I’m not the only one.”

His eyes held mine for a brief moment before they flicked over me.

A sense of deja vu spilled down the length of my spine, but unlike at our first meeting, I detected a crack in Dante’s indifference.

It was tiny, just a shadow of a flame, but it was enough to fill my stomach with flutters.

His perusal paused at my midsection. The shadow expanded, darkening his eyes from rich brown to near obsidian.

I looked down, and my heart stumbled when I saw what caught his attention.

I slept hot, so I usually wore some variation of a silk camisole and boy shorts to bed. It was fine for the privacy of my bedroom but completely inappropriate when faced with company.

The shorts stopped an inch above mid-thigh, and my top had ridden up sometime during my cabinet foraging, revealing a generous expanse of bare skin.

When I looked up again, Dante’s gaze had returned to my face.

I held still, afraid to breathe as he moved toward me with the languid, powerful grace of a predator stalking its prey.

Every soft footfall was another lit flame in the space between us.

He stopped when his body heat enveloped mine. Inches away, so close I could count the individual stubble shadowing his jaw. “What are you looking for?”

His casual tone clashed with the tension brewing in the air, but I simply said the first thing that came to mind.

“Pringles. Classic.”

There was no answer like the truth.

I discreetly tugged my top down while Dante reached into the cabinet above my head. The tiny breeze from his movement brushed my skin.

Goosebumps pebbled, and something hot coiled in my stomach.

He retrieved an unopened can of chips and handed it to me without a word.

“Thank you.” I clutched the tube, unsure what to do next.

Part of me wanted to escape to the safety of my room. The other part wanted to stay and see how long I could play with fire without getting burned.

“Pringles, pickles, and pudding.” Dante saved me from a decision. “Interesting combination.”

Relief loosened the knot in my chest. My breath came out easier now that I had something to focus on other than my body’s unwilling reaction to his.

“They taste good together. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” I took control of my limbs again and sidestepped him on my way to the island.

The touch of his gaze followed me, an insistent pressure on the small of my back.

I opened the can of Pringles. Don’t turn around.

“Apologies. Far be it from me to question your snack choices.” A trace of dry amusement ran through his voice.

I heard the fridge open behind me, followed by the clink of silverware and the click of a shutting cabinet door.

A minute later, Dante slid onto the stool beside me.

My mouth parted when he began assembling his snack.