“Whatever.” She huffs. “I guess this is all some kind of a joke to you.” She pushes to her feet, but one of them gets caught in the throw blanket and her body’s momentum crashes downward.
I dart forward and sweep her into my arms before she falls to the floor.
Her breath catches and she doesn’t push me away. This close, I notice the flush to her cheeks. The wine stain on her lips. I bet if I covered her mouth with mine, she’d taste sweet.
“Playing damsel in distress?” My voice is a low hum, scared to break the trance and have her pull away. I run my open mouth along the column of her throat while my hands travel over her plump ass as I stand straight and pull her body against mine. “Maybe I should carry you out to the barn?”
“I can walk just fine, thank you very much.”
“Can you?” I tease, glancing over her shoulder to the wine bottle next to her empty glass.
“Are you judging me for day drinking?” She stiffens, stepping back and resting her hands on her hips.
“No, I like it when you’re tipsy.”
“And why’s that?”
I skim my finger from her forehead to the space between her eyebrows. “You frown less.”
As if to drive home my point, the wrinkle in her forehead appears.
“Women are allowed to frown. We don’t exist solely for your pleasure and entertainment.”
She’s sassy today. I wonder why, but I don’t mind. I actually love that she doesn’t play into my good favor. I didn’t realize until recently how often women do that with me. The only people who call me on my shit are my family. And her.
But as much as she pretends to act annoyed, I believe she must enjoy a good verbal spar. I know I do. With her, arguing feels more like foreplay.
“Really? Because that’s about all the women do in your book.” I flash her a teasing grin. “Poor Beatrice is getting railed by everyone in this small town.”
Her lips twist with the tiniest hint of approval. “You read the book.”
I skimmed. “Of course.”
“It’s erotica. The multiple partners are part of her character development. Women are allowed to enjoy sex just as much, if not more than men.”
“Now, that’s something I can get behind.” I grin. “Why don’t you grab Mr. Darcy while I take a quick shower?”
“A shower? I thought maybe all this sweat and dirt was you getting into character?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sweaty and dirty every day. I’m just glad my sweaty ass doesn’t repel you.”
She sniffs and scrunches her face. “I didn’t say I liked it.”
“Give me five minutes.”
“For what? To shower? Or is that how long you hope to last?”
My jaw falls open.
She turns on her heel and starts strutting toward the stairs. I love the playfulness behind her teasing. But I’m not letting her leave on that note.
I race to catch up, reach for her arm, and tug her back into my embrace. With her body against mine, I sigh. That’s better.
“What’s the matter? Did I come too quickly last night?”
I don’t think she expects this question because her face flushes and she can’t quite piece together a response.
“I, uh . . .what?”
