Gwen laughs. “You remember that? Oh Lord, I totally forgot about that night.”
My mind traces back to it. Fuck yes, I remember. I remember the way we laughed outside on that patio before she climbed onto my lap and stole another piece of my heart as I watched her breathless and panting my name thirty minutes later. God, how could I forget? She still left me a month later without any explanation.
I knew she was pissed I had spent time with Christina Thompson, but that was to throw the football team off our scent. People were beginning to talk, and I knew her parents would be mad if they found out about us, knowing my reputation around school and my mother’s around town.
Still, in her mind, I will always be a jackass for the nights I didn’t call, or our missed late night dates. In hindsight, they were all part of a different plan. A plan to not let her get too close to my heart. Even though it failed because no woman has ever been able to satisfy or complete me the way Gwen does. The way she always will.
“Well, hopefully, this dish will redeem my bad cooking skills from when I was seventeen,” she smiles, adding another ingredient to the pot.
“It wasn’t your bad cooking skills I remember most, but more the great skills you showed me with your mouth later that night that made it one for the record books, sweetheart,” I tease, trying to forget the shit in our past that keeps bubbling up like the shit in that damn pot she is stirring.
She blushes as she adds another cup of some vegetable shit to the growing pot on the stove. Never looking up at me, she whispers, “You weren’t so bad yourself, Roberts. Now stop it, and let me concentrate on making you a meal you’ll never forget.”
She has no fucking idea.
She’s the only thing I want for the rest of my life and then some. The thought scares the shit out of me just like it did before. Only this time, I think I might be able to face it. At least, I hope I can.
Eventually, I say, “I’m content just watching you. I’ve never seen cooking look so sexy.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “Keep talking like that, Rex, and I might just have to prove you wrong.”
“Oh, please do,” I say, coming closer and whispering in her ear. “There are a million fantasies I’ve had since watching you start stirring that pot, Gwen.”
“Do any of them involve stirring your pot later, Rex? Because I’m afraid you’ll be entirely disappointed if so. I don’t put out on the first date,” she smirks.
“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t our first then, Gwen. Because I have plans for your fine ass and that smart mouth of yours later,” I whisper. “Like you wearing nothing but an apron, bending over to get something out of the stove, before I grab you from behind and lay you out on the counter then devour your pussy like it’s my last damn meal.”
She gasps and leans against the counter for balance. Sucking in a shaky breath, she says, “Maybe my fine ass and mouth have different plans later tonight. Besides, you’re not the only man in New Orleans. Maybe I was talking about a different first date I plan to have later with someone else.”
I grab her hand, the one holding the spoon, and pull her quickly towards me. Her eyes fill with fire as she tries to fight against my grip.
Here we go again, just like fucking clockwork. Hot and cold. Our damn routine.
“I’m the only man here that knows just how your fine ass and mouth like it, Gwen. Don’t tell me you don’t remember? Holding out on me won’t make me go any easier on you once I claim you again, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Rex,” she says, fluttering her eyes. “There is so much more involved in pleasing a woman than a little girl from the past. I doubt you have the skills or stamina to keep up with me anymore.”
Releasing her arm, I smile and she quickly returns to her cooking. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’ve got all the time in the world and nowhere else to be. Besides, no man ever said he didn’t enjoy learning how to please his woman. I’m down to keep trying as long as your body can keep taking.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not your woman, Rex.”
“We’ll see about that, Gwen,” I smirk as we start stirring the dish together. “There are still a few more hours left in this day. I might prove you wrong before the night is over. And I know how much you enjoy being proved wrong.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I laugh.
“Hey, a bet is a bet, sweetheart,” I tease.
Her cheeks flush, and hell if it doesn’t make me think of ways I intend to make them do so again before this day is up. She has no idea how much fun it is going to be watching her lose a bet she’s intent on winning. In the past, I may have always let her think she was the winner, but damn it if I didn’t always lose in the most delicious ways.
13
Gwen
Rex stands across from me a few hours later and smiles. It’s a mischievous smile that always means trouble. The music starts, and he winks at me before taking a couple of steps in my direction. The instructor to our left says something in French and pushes me forward forcibly, making me fall into his arms as I stumble over my two left feet.
Oh, I have danced in more clubs than I wish to count. But ballroom dancing? Yeah, no way. Number thirteen on the many things I said I wanted to try one day but never actually thought I’d get a chance to do. Now, waltzing around an empty ballroom with Rex during a private lesson, I wonder just how I’m going to hold out on Mr. “pulling out all the right stops” Rex Roberts.
Yeah, I’m totally screwed.
