“Yes and no.” He tucked the keys in his pocket.
She leaned into him, whispering in his ear, “A little more, Jase.”
Shit, he didn’t want to dissect this. “Yes, it’s usually crazy. No, I don’t usually get to leave.”
She shifted on her feet, clearly unsure. “Why’d we leave, then?”
“Because I would like, at the end of the night, for you to still be speaking to me.” And possibly doing other things with him. He also didn’t particularly want to be around the table with Babushka and Harry while they acted like teenagers.
“I won’t judge you based on your family.” She stepped forward, placing her arms on his shoulders. “They’re them. You’re you.”
“See? You say that now. But…” He did a little one-sided lip curl, shaking his head.
She dropped her hands, unlocked the heavy exterior door, and pushed inside. “Do you want to place bets on what happened with Babushka and Harry after your parents caught them?”
“I want to not discuss my family anymore.” He paused to trace the edge of her forehead with his thumb.
“You want a cookie?” she asked, letting him by.
He heaved a breath from his lungs. “Is that code for something? Because either way, I definitely want a cookie.”
She gave a deep, throaty laugh before flicking on the lights in her kitchen. The kitchen was immaculate. He’d never seen it without her staff. Usually, it was bustling, with flour and icing flying.
“I can fix you a sandwich?” she asked.
“I’m good with cookies.”
She grabbed a bin of undecorated sugar cookies, pulling off the lid. “I know you don’t want to talk about your family anymore, but for some reason, you kicking someone’s ass is totally a turn-on.”
“How much of a turn-on?” he asked as she opened another bin filled with pastry bags of icing. She must’ve meant real cookies. That was fine, but later he wanted the figurative ones, too.
“Like, I’m in the showcase showdown onThePrice is Rightand my showcase is the one with a trip to Tuscany, a boat, and”—she went into game-show-announcer mode—
“a brand-new car.”
God, she was funny. He pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t bust out laughing and ruin the mood he was attempting to set.
“What do you, ah, want to do about that?” Jase dropped his voice lower.
She glanced up from icing his name on a cookie, obviously catching his vibe. “I suppose I’d like you to teach me to tie you up. Seems like that’s a skill you’ve been holding out on me about.”
His pulse skipped. Well, folks, he had not expected that. “I could teach you. First, I’d have to show you. I’d need you to volunteer.”
“That sounds fun. I could do that. But don’t lose focus, I want to learn the ropes. As they say.”
He moved closer to her, not in her space, but close enough he caught her scent. “You get me tied up, what are you going to do next?”
“How do you feel about frosting? Because I love frosting.” She piped a bit on her fingertip.
“You are not icing my dick.” He had very few things he wouldn’t do, but he drew the line there.
“I’m really good at icing dicks.”
“I repeat. You are not icing my dick.”
“I’ll lick it off.” She illustrated what she’d do with her tongue and her lips until there was no more icing on her finger. Well, hello, there, Heather.
Fuck it all, he no longer had that limit. Go figure.
