“I didn’t orgasm.” I resume my whisking, refusing to let him fluster me.
“You did.”
“And how would you know?”
“I could feel you milking my cock while your eyes squeezed shut and your heels dug into my ass.”
Bollocks! Mr. Reed is pretty damn observant in bed.
I snicker. “Maybe you’re remembering your first shag of the night. Don’t forget, I wasn’t your first.”
His lips purse while a chill slithers along my spine. “You were my only ‘shag’ of the night.” My head snaps up, but he’s already halfway up the stairs.
*
Theodore eats likea caveman. His right arm rests on the table, curled around the perimeter of his plate protecting his food while he shovels it in with the fork fisted in his left hand.
“You’re a lefty.” I lean back in my chair, after maybe two bites of food. Observing Theo satisfies my appetite more than food.
“Sometimes.”
I chuckle. “Sometimes?”
He shrugs, giving me a brief look before returning his focus to his endangered meal. “I’m ambidextrous.”
So he’s good with both hands. That wouldn’t make headlines, yet it fascinates the hell out of me. I want to know everything about this man, but I don’t know why.
“Nolan said you’re moving in six months… well, four now. Where are you going?”
He pauses then drops his fork onto his plate. “Why?” he asks with exasperation as his cold eyes meet mine.
“Curiosity, that’s all.”
After a good five seconds, he resumes eating. “You know what they say about curiosity,” he mumbles over a mouthful of food.
“It kills the cat?”
Theo keeps shoveling food.
“Fine. Then make something up.”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then takes a swig of his beer. “Make something up?”
“Sure. Make something up. Make everything up. We’re going our separate ways in a few months, so make something up… but make it good. I love a good story.”
He’s mastered the you’re-crazy look. It’s possible I’ve helped cultivate its perfection.
Leaning back, he blows out a long breath. I freak out on the inside because he’s really going to do it. Theodore Reed is going to make up some bullshit story and share it with me. Life is good.
“I’m the lead singer in a band and we’re going on a world tour.”
My eyes double in size like he’s telling me the truth, but I know he’s not. I didn’t expect him to say something socool.
“Do you play an instrument?”
“Guitar.” He gets a gold medal for the fastest answer ever. He’s good at this.
“Genre?”
