Reuben's gaze turns to me in the doorway and the heat of his gaze makes me feel queasy. Worse yet, when a wicked smirk touches his lips and makes my heart stutter.
Why the fuck do you suddenly look like that?
Maybe it's an after-sex people spell.
“I would've loved to watch my cum drip out of your ass and all over my bed," he purrs, "but I figured you'd be uncomfortable."
Our conversation’s barely started and his mouth is already filthy.
My stare sharpens. All I can do is ignore him.
“What about Xavier? Weren’t we supposed to meet him?”
“We were,” he turns his back to me to pour a second cup of coffee for me, “but that was before someone fell asleep on my cock.”
My cheeks grow warm from the memory, but I shake it away quickly. Just ignore him, ignore him.
He slides the cup towards me and my nose wrinkles. He blinks, “You don’t drink coffee?”
“Have you ever seen me drink coffee?” I step forward to sit at the bar. “Do you have milk?”
His brows crease. He stares at me as if he can’t tell if I’m joking. “Milk,” he repeats.
I fight the smile, “Is what I said.”
He raises a brow and there's amusement in his eyes as he slides the cup he's poured away from us and walks towards the fridge.
“What about Xavier?” I press.
“I don’t want to talk about Xavier.”
“Did you send him what we found? What are our next steps going to be—?”
He places a carton of milk on the counter so firmly, my mouth snaps shut.
He looks upset.
“As happy as I am to hear Xavier’s name out of your mouth the moment you wake up,” he hooks his hand beneath my chin to pull me forward and there’s a fire in his dark eyes that makes me swallow, “that’s not what I want to hear right now.”
His gaze flickers to my lips before returning to my eyes and I’m almost certain he’s about to reach out and devour me again. “This could be so much cuter. Now say hello,” his lips curl into a dashing smile and his voice drops low into his throat, “and say ‘thanks for cleaning me up’.”
The blush on my cheeks has nothing to do with his scent. Or his voice. Or how close he is.
Suddenly I remember all too clearly... the sound of his voice when he was inside me. I don't think I can control my expression any more than I could back then.I avert my eyes with new shyness.
“Hi,” I mumble. He’s not actually going to make me say thank you, is he?But he squeezes my cheeks with his fingers, puffing them out and making me feel ridiculous.
“And?” He sings sweetly and I can feel the blush spreading across my face fiercely.
I didn’t ask you to clean me!
I grind out my next words, “Thanks.”
Bastard asshole—
His lips take mine so quickly, my insides melt.
Why does he always taste so sweet?
