Simon’s eyes widen and then shift in the direction of his empty wineglass.
I tug his hand, and sparks shoot up my arm. “C’mon. Let’s go whip some cream. For everyone else. Not for you.”
“Whip it good,” Daphne calls.
“Life is never boring in your circle, is it?” Simon murmurs.
“Never. And I love it.”
The screen door bangs shut behind us.
And we’re alone.
Again.
Just like this afternoon in my bus, except that Simon’s in a shirt that’s almost dried after Ryker got him with water, and I’m in a dress that he can very easily slide his hands under, and we have maybe four minutes before someone realizes we’re alone inside together, because that’s how my life goes.
He squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to him, away from the door and lone window. “That was the most delicious meal I’ve had in years.”
“Hate to tell you, but that’s the pinnacle of my culinary tricks. It’s all downhill from here.”
There’s something different about his smile.
It’s probably the smoky desire making his blue eyes darker. The way they crinkle at the edges. How he smells like patchouli and summertime sprinklers and old books. The brush of his shirt against my bare arm as he presses me against the countertop.
“Tell me there’s not spilled food behind me,” I say.
He smiles wider.
And it’s impossible to not smile back.
“If there were?” he says as he lowers his lips to my neck.
“The answer to that question depends on what you—oh god,right there.”
How does the man know the exact right place and the exact right pressure to put on my skin?
He nips at the sensitive skin behind my ear. “Is this the right answer?”
I angle my face into his neck and lick the tendon from his shoulder to his jaw, enjoying how he shudders against me. “Clearly yes,” he murmurs.
“We have like three minutes.”
“How could you possibly?—”
“I raised three teenage boys and Daphne. I know my odds here.”
He chuckles against my skin, and I know.
I know I am absolutely hopeless at resisting this man.
He’s a bit of a mess, but so am I.
But mostly—it’s the kindness.
“I apologize for my demon spawn’s refusal to eat your food. I don’t know what’s got into them.”
See?
