“It might be better if I picked you up,” he teased.
“No, I’m—" he swung me into his arms, and I screamed, holding onto his neck a little too tight, probably cutting off his circulation as we headed toward the couch. Only, it wasn't breakfasted that was waiting for us, it was dinner, paired with wine, and then there were board games stacked next to the ottoman such as scrabble and clue. “That's a steak,” I pointed out.
“With eggs. I’m not a complete madman.”
“That’s wine.”
“Perfectly paired with the steak and eggs.”
“What is your plan? I’m on to you,” I said, taking a seat on the floor by my plate and grabbed my wine glass. I guess it was never too early for wine.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but the weather is only going to get worse. We are already snowed in, so I figured, why not have fun with it? And I found the steak in your fridge. Don’t worry, I have coffee brewing. But I thought the wine was a nice touch.” He grinned sheepishly.
“We open soon! We can’t be stuck here, Chris.”
“We don't have a choice. It will be fine. I'm not worried about it. A ton of snow in this area isn't unheard of, it's fine.” He pushed my wine glass toward my lips. “Drink. Relax. Eat. I'm going to whoop your ass in Scrabble."
“Please, we all know who the champion at vocabulary is.” I pointed to myself as I sipped my wine. It was kind of gross first thing in the morning. I put it down.
“That was years ago. I'm a smarter man now,” he said, cutting into his steak. It shouldn't look so sexy, but with his arms and chest flexing, and the memory of him tossing his head back in the jacuzzi made me choke on the orange juice I'd found next to the wine. He ran around the ottoman and patted my back. “Are you okay? You need a warning label or one of those Life Alert buttons.”
“I'm fine," I said through suffocation and watery eyes. “Went down the wrong way.” The patting on my back turned to soothing circles, and before I knew it, I felt better, and Chris didn't move. He stayed right next to me, even as I regained composure and took a bite of the steak.
“I can't believe I didn't wake up to hear you cooking. This is amazing.” I moaned around the juicy steak. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me with a savage expression, something that would make me choke again if I wasn't careful.
“You can’t make it sound like that,” he whispered, staring at my lips.
“Why?”
He crawled forward, and suddenly I was flat on my back and trapped in his strong embrace, staring up into stormy grey eyes.
“Because you have no idea what those moans do to me.”
I laid there a minute, trying to catch my breath as he studied my face and realized he didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t try to do anything! Did he not want me?
“Come on, let's eat, play games, watch a movie, drink some wine—after coffee—and see where the day takes us?" he held out his hand and helped me up.
“Deal.”
I was glad that he wanted to get to know me and have fun. And I was even happier as the day progressed and we got along. As friends. Not as bickering maniacs. Don't get me wrong, the lust was still there, climbing high, very high, building with every single scrabble tile I put down. We made dirty words like a screw, come, moan until he laid down a word that beat them all.
Fuck me.
Technically that was two words, but who cares about the rules in such an instant?
I licked my lips, rolling the tiles between my fingers as I debated on what to say back. I had good letters. Admittedly, I could think of something to say, but I was tongue−tied.
“Nothing to say?”
Plenty.
Chris adjusted his cock in his pants, and my eyes dropped, noticing the outline in his jeans getting bigger.
I placed two tiles down since my brain was only working at half−capacity. “O.K,” was all I said, but Chris launched himself at me, spilling the wine all over my chest, ruining the mood.
Kind of. We could still make it work.
Chris dipped down and trailed his tongue along my collarbone, licking the red liquid off my chest. “Who needs a napkin?” he chuckled, grabbing my breasts to push them higher, letting the mounds spills out as he licked me clean.
