Recipe for Love (Jupiter Tides #1)

by Anne Malcom

“Need to hear you say you want to be mine,” he requested gently. I tilted my head, eyes roving over him. His angular jaw covered in stubble. Those lips that were perfectly full and masculine. The dark brows framing his smoldering gaze. Inky hair that brushed his forehead. Broad shoulders. Muscular arms. Sinewy forearms exposed from the way he’d pushed up the sleeves of his flannel. Large hands covered in calluses, proof of the work he did every day. I’d cataloged all of this before, of course. But from a distance. Or with fleeting glances when I was brave enough to actually engage with him. “Do you want to be mine?” I asked him instead of heeding his command. I was forcing the staunch feminist in me to the forefront. Because I was embarrassed at how much I wanted to be his. Even though, two nights ago, I’d been cursing another man for thinking I was something to own. But Rowan was saying it was like I’d be something to worship. Still, I was pushing back. Because how was I to know that he truly wanted to be mine? It was one thing to have a woman, but it was quite another to be had by a woman, belong to her in the same way you expected her to belong to you. A lot of men didn’t think like that. Thought the rules were different. “Cupcake, I was yours the second my steel-toed boot set foot in this pink fuckin’ bakery,” he said without hesitation. My lungs seized as he stole all the oxygen from them.