“I’m not dressed. I just… Unless I know you’re taking the photo, and I’m wearing all my clothes, I don’t want you to do that.”
I stare at the photo on my phone for a second. “I’ll get rid of it.” Then I delete it before setting the device face down on the counter again. “It would just be for me. I’d never do anything with those photos.”
“Maybe not,” she says, slowly turning. “But it’s not a chance I’m okay with.”
“I don’t take a lot of photos,” I admit. “Every once in a while, I get the urge to freeze a moment in time.”
“Thisis hardly a ‘freeze in time’ moment,” she says with a little laugh.
“It is to me,” I say. Before the comment can land too hard and cause any follow-up questions, I keep the conversation rolling. “Mind if I grab an apple?”
“Help yourself.”
I pluck one out of the basket she keeps on the center island, and then I start opening drawers.
“What are you looking for?” She tilts her head.
“Knife.”
“In the block beside the stove.”
I grab one, settle against the counter, and carve off a slice of apple before sliding it into my mouth.
“Is everything you do sexy, or is there something wrong with me?”
“What’s a better look—that I’m cocky or you’re unhinged?” I say, carving off another piece. “I don’t think there’s a right answer to that one.”
“Why are you eating the apple like that?”
“You’ve never seen someone eat like this?” I slowly peel away another slice, and then I eye her, waiting.
“No, I have. I’ve just never wanted to rip someone’s clothes off because they were eating an apple like that.”
“Good news,” I say before popping the piece into my mouth and crunching away. “I’m not wearing any clothes, and I’m at your service.”
“Why don’t you just bite into it?”
“Too juicy. Makes my beard sticky.”
She raises her eyebrows in disbelief.
“I’m very picky about what I’m willing to coat my beard with.” I give her a wicked grin. “You’re worth getting messy for.”
“You know,” she says, pressing her hands into the island. “I have been wondering something.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, not sure from her tone that I want to know what that is.
“I don’t understand how you’re so good at sex when you’re only twenty-one. When I was twenty-one, I wasnothaving the kind of sex we’re having. Even at thirty-one, I wasn’t having the kind of sex we’re having before you.”
I try not to let her comment go to my head—either one. She’s said some version of this quite a few times in the last few days, so I know I’m, without a doubt, the best she’s ever had. That’s a big deal to me, but I can’t help teasing her.
“It feels obvious, but… Brace yourself, doc.” I give her a little smile as I carve off another section of apple. “You’ve been having sex with the wrong people.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” she mutters, and she looks down at the granite island for a beat. “But seriously. Did you have a girlfriend in…” She falters, and pink tints her cheeks. “High school? A girl gave you some pointers?”
“On how to make a woman come? No.”
“This cannot be a natural talent.”
