He smells really good.
I rip open the bag and pluck a couple of the little gummy candies, popping one into my mouth. I love the puckery sour taste. “Which color is your favorite?”
“Orange,” he says without hesitation, peering into the bag. He pulls out an orange candy.
“Do you eat the orange ones first?”
He grins. “Nah. I eat ’em all. When I was a kid, I ate so many sour candies my tongue peeled.”
My mouth falls open. “Yikes!”
“Yeah. What’s your favorite?”
“Red. But I eat them all, too.”
“These aren’t the best sour candies, though. My favorite is really Sour Blasters.”
“Ooooh, yes, those are so good. I also like the sour Skittles. I love how chewy they are.”
“So it’s not just the taste?” He takes a drink of the beer he pulled out of the fridge. “It’s also texture?”
“Well, primarily taste. But yes, texture adds something to the experience.”
“How about size? Does size matter?”
I open my mouth, then snap it closed and shoot him an amused glance. “Sometimes.”
I felt that erection earlier and he definitely has some size. My gaze drops involuntarily to his lap. Oh… the soft fabric of his sweatpants outlines a firm bulge.
I swallow and shove a candy into my mouth, then choke.
“You okay?”
I glance at his face, and his knowing smirk. My cheeks flame. Coughing, I search for a change in topic. “Do you have a bucket list?”
“Sure.”
I wait.
“Win the Stanley Cup.”
“Of course. And I want to win a Grammy. How about something not career-related?”
He chews a candy thoughtfully. “I want to golf at the Old Course at St. Andrews. In Scotland.”
I tilt my head. “Huh. You golf?”
“Yeah. In the off season.”
“I used to like to golf. My parents took Grayson and me for lessons. But I haven’t played for a long time.”
“You can come to Scotland with me.”
That sounds… lovely. But improbable.
“What’s on your bucket list?” He absently sets his hand on my bare thigh.
Well, that’s distracting. “I want to hold a koala.”
