“What happened to being a team?” He smirked.
A sharp breath of air pushed from my nose, and I leaned back in my chair. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes.
In the darkness behind my eyelids, I listened for him.
His footsteps approached, not quite cautious, not quite confident. More like stalking than a playful pursuit. The steps stopped in front of me, and I could hear the crisp skin of a fruit breaking.
I felt wetness on my lips.
“Open,” he whispered, gently moving the piece of fruit across my lips, a trace of the juice yet to taste.
I parted my lips, letting him place the piece in my mouth before I chewed. The fruit was sweet, with a slightly sour bite from the skin. The flesh was soft.
I moved the slice in my mouth to chew.
“Ah-ah! Not yet.” He grabbed my face, pinching my cheeks inward to stop me. “Patience.”
My jaw twitched, wanting to bite down on his finger rather than the fruit now.
“Do you taste it?”
I nodded, holding it in my mouth.
“Did you notice it’s sweeter?” His voice stayed close but moved around me. “Or how just letting it sit there, undisturbed on your tongue, agitates the senses?”
I shifted in my seat, holding the fruit on my tongue. The juice dripped down my throat. The temptation to swallow was ever-present, as was my dwindling patience.
“Do you notice the scent is stronger, sweetness only tasted when you salivate enough to swallow, just to wait some more?” he said in my ear.
I nodded again, taking a deep breath.
He grabbed my chin. My eyes need not have been open to know he wasinsatiablyclose.
“I consider haste a sin. I can appreciate the patience it takes to wait for something. To wait until it’s ripened to perfection.”
I opened my eyes, and his lips were on mine. His tongue snaked inside my mouth, stealing the fruit from my tongue before pulling away.
“It sounds like you plan to eat me.” I exhaled, disappointed that he hadn’t allowed me to finish the treat after all that play.
He laughed as he chewed, cocking his head at me. “Maybe. But judging from the look in your eyes, maybe it is I who should be worried aboutyourappetite.”
He gestured his hands over his eyes, wanting me to close them again.
I did, waiting.
He placed another unknown slice in my mouth, this time allowing me to chew.
“What do you taste?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“A plum.”
“Very good,” he said. “Do you want another, or shall I move on to the next?”
“Next,” I answered, hearing rustling again. I leaned forward, anticipating the return. He held another piece to my lips, and I let him place it in my mouth. The fruit was stiff like an apple but sweeter. “A pear.”
