The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,14

as she takes two more steps. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

I hold my hands out, begging her to stop. “Okay! Look, there’s someone here, but it’s not—”

The loud bang of a pan comes from down the hall, and I turn my head in that direction. Mia’s squeal of excitement pulls my attention back in time to see her sprint back down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

“Mia, wait,” I plead, following right behind her. “Let me explain.”

She comes to an abrupt stop at the kitchen entrance, and I slam right into her. As we stumble and struggle to stay upright, I spot Cole by the island.

“Gwen,” Mia whispers, “why is Cole Masterson in your kitchen?”

Cole smirks, folding his arms as he leans against the counter. “You didn’t tell your bestie about me?”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words, heat burning my cheeks. Mia didn’t move to Westbrook until after Cole moved out and he and I were no longer speaking. I’ve never told her about our past. She only knows him as the sexy fearsome jokester; everyone’s favorite member of the Westbrook Three. If I had it my way, that’s exactly how it’d stay.

Her mouth drops open as her gaze slides over to me.

“Cole is staying here. Temporarily,” I clarify. “And I was going to tell you.”

Mia blinks dramatically, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. He’s living with you? I thought the two of you didn’t get along. What am I missing here?”

“Nothing. He’s just—”

“Gwen and I go way back,” Cole interjects, pulling our attention back to him. “It’s been a while, but we used to be quite close. Luckily, this gives us a chance to get…reacquainted.”

His eyes flicker over to where I’d nearly come completely undone yesterday, then back to me, and my center pulses with need despite the irritation coursing through my veins.

I avoid Mia’s questioning glare and smack my lips, feigning a bored indifference to his bullshit. “Not happening.”

“Whatever you say,” Cole sniggers, his tone dripping with condescension. “Who’s hungry? I made muffins.”

Mia’s face lights up when she turns back to him, and my stomach churns. I’ve seen it countless times since we’ve been friends, one of the telling signs she’s interested in a guy. The sway in her hips on her way over to him is another.

“There’s nothing sexier than a guy who can cook,” she coos, taking a muffin from the plate on the island.

Cole acknowledges her comment with a smug, lopsided grin then locks his glare onto mine, picking up a muffin and extending it to me. “They’re blueberry,” he says, as if the fact that he made my favorite means I’m obligated to eat one.

“No, thanks. I’m not very hungry.”

His eyes slit as he stalks toward me, but my chin tilts up in defiance once he’s towering over me. “You sure about that, Princess? I won’t ask again.”

The threat behind his words hangs in the air between us as I weigh my options. It isn’t like he would physically force me to eat the damn thing, but there’s no telling what he might do or say if I refuse. Thirteen-year-old Cole once went days only eating what and when I did, and his genius little plan worked. It was horrible watching him grow sicker and weaker with every day that passed. I started eating normally again just to make sure he would eat.

“On second thought, a muffin does sound tasty,” I relent.

Cole’s lips spread into a pleased grin as I snatch the muffin from his hand. But he doesn’t move, waiting for me to take a bite. I bring it to my mouth slowly, meticulously, and let my teeth sink into it like an apple. His green eyes darken with lust while he watches me chew, and heat pools at my center by the time I swallow.

“Satisfied?” My question comes out all breathy instead of snarky.

His thumb sweeps a crumb from my bottom lip, and I press my thighs together when he pops it into his mouth to suck the morsel off.

He leans in and whispers, “Not yet. I’ve only had a taste.”

Then he strolls out of the room without another word, leaving me a puddled mess of sexual frustration. Mia coughs, reminding me of her presence, and my round eyes fly to her.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, fanning herself.

I shrug a shoulder and stuff another piece of muffin into my mouth, giving myself a second to figure out what to say. There’s no simple way to explain this away,