He shrugs lazily. "Not my fault. My sexual preference is you. Often."
He glances at the mist curling through the big shower, so dense now we can’t even see each other anymore.
"Damn, woman. How hot do you like your water?"
I let him see the dark flash in my eyes and reach for the faucet. "Actually, I was just thinking it's not hot enough."
"Nope. Enough boiling," he says, already turning off the water.
He moves out of the shower, doesn't even dry himself, and he's already holding a towel open for me, wrapping me in it as I step out.
My eyes must do their biggest ever.
His mouth twitches. "You look like a gremlin."
"Iama gremlin," I say, clutching my towel like a cape. "Feed me."
He gives me a salute, mock-serious, and vanishes with his towel through the doorway.
By the time I've wriggled into clean clothes and tiptoed back into the bedroom, I notice he's already bundled the sheets into a plastic bag, and covered the bed, protecting me from my own embarrassment, which is unfairly, disgustingly sweet.
When I wander into the kitchen in loose sweats and hoodie, he's stretched out on the sofa, watchingDrive. Ryan Gosling brooding under neon rain—it's always been our soft spot.
But my eyes catch on the dining table. "No way. You made red velvet cannoli again?"
I barely sit down before I practically inhale the first one, bliss humming through my chest.
Ben walks from the sofa and sits across the table, watching me amusedly. "Looks like your appetite's back."
That makes me slow down and put it back on the tray. "You think I gained weight?"
He rolls his eyes. "Eat." It sounds like a commandment.
I glare at him, puckering my lips, but take another bite anyway.
"You and your damn diets. I want you soft again. Voluptuous, like you used to be," he says and leans over the table, thumb wiping the ricotta from the corner of my mouth, then licks his finger, even though I know he doesn't like it.
"I don't get how you don't like these," I say.
He shrugs. "What's the craze about it?"
Chewing slowly, I close my eyes and try to describe the taste. "It's sweet, but with bite. Melts on your tongue and then stays there after you've eaten it. It just makes you addicted. Simple as that."
He hums thoughtfully. "Simple as that, huh? Sounds exactly like how I feel about you."
I freeze mid-bite, recalling everything I just said, then melt. “Awwww!”
His mouth curves. “I know how to get you. Red velvet and cherries.”
My eyes narrow as I point at him. “Don’t even mention the cherries. Low blow. Even for you.”
“Uh-huh. What about that white skirt you showed up in?” He gets up from the chair and walks over to me to dip his face close to mine. His eyes narrow. “Also a low blow. I could see your ass every time you moved—how it was begging for me. Should’ve nailed you right on that table.”
I snort at his depravity and make a move to get up, but before I can even take a step, he sweeps me off my feet—literally.
He carries me down the stairs to the living room and lays me gently onto our oversized sofa. We snuggle into each other the way we always do, with our feet tangled, and watch themovie, but mostly we doze off.
When I wake up to the rolling credits song and Ben breathing slow against my back, it's already getting dark outside. I spent another full day with him.
