I reach over and grab a fry that she placed on her plate, popping it into my mouth. “Sorry, just hungry, I guess.”
She nods slowly, staring at me like she’s trying to figure out what I’m hiding. Because she is not buying the response that I gave her. “I just want to hang out tonight. I don’t want to talk about last night.”
I nod. She misread my stare, but I don’t bother to correct her because she doesn’t need to know that I plan on winning her back. However long that might take.
“I’m not going to bring it up unless you want to, Hen. It’s up to you what you say to me about it anymore. I know and that’sthat. We can move on from it or discuss as many times as you need to,” I tell her.
“Who are you?” she asks, looking at me with her mouth agape.
“I don’t follow.”
“The August I knew wouldn’t have been so kind about that. You would have insisted that we talk about it because that’s what you wanted,” she reminds me.
“I know, but I’ve changed. Maybe if you tamped down the hate a bit, you could see that.” I go for teasing, but I can see it falls flat.
“I don’t show you that much hate. Especially not lately.” She shoots me a wink that goes straight to my dick.
I groan. “Are you planning on demonstrating any of that tonight?”
“I can if you eat all of your food,” Her voice drops to a deliciously low timber that makes me want to crawl across the floor and pull her beneath me.
“Keep talking to me like that and we’re going to need to reheat this food,” I say, my gaze firmly planted on her.
She just shakes her head and laughs. “I’m not scared of you.”
I smirk. “I’m not trying to make you scared of me, just trying to make you come.”
“I thought the point was to make me not hate you anymore,” she challenges.
“I feel like we’re halfway there. Not sure when that shifted. Whether it was the night I brought you here, or took you in the locker room, but your hatred for me is starting to lessen. Might even be with each thrust. I can put in overtime tonight if you think it’ll help.” I pop a fry in my mouth and just watch her process the moment.
She swallows and says, “If that’s what you think is best.”
I gulp, just watching her. This was not what I expected from her.
“There’s no need to make this too heavy, August. No one promised anyone anything other than dinner tonight,” her voice trails off before she adds, “and maybe some fun. Nothing earth- shattering happening here.”
I nod. She has no idea. She might be thinking this is casual or she’s trying to convince herself that it is, but there’s no way that it could stay that way. She’s everything.
We eat in silence and I flip on the TV while we watch a few Food Network cooking challenge shows.
“You still like to do this, huh?” she asks me once she settles into the couch.
I’ve moved over so that I’m sitting directly beside her. I can feel the heat coming from her thigh that is almost touching mine.
“I do. I might not be able to cook but it’s fun watching others do it.”
“Sometime I’ll have to cook with you. You can catch a live show,” she remarks, stealing a glance in my direction as she says it.
“Really?” My head snaps in her direction. I doubt we have the same definition of live show right now. All I can think about is diving into her and letting anyone who dares come near my door hear what I’m doing to her.
“Yeah, I learned. Felt like it was time to cook for myself and not live off of takeout for the rest of my life,” she says shrugging, the motion bumping her shoulder into mine.
“Good for you,” I deadpan because I have no idea what else to say to this woman.
She just nods and looks in my direction before leaning across me to my discarded plate and grabbing one of the fries that areleft. Before she can bring the fry to her mouth, I catch her wrist and direct it into my mouth.
“Thank you,” my voice comes out low and throaty. Her breath hitches and I lean in, placing my forehead against hers. I can tell her breath is coming out slow and ragged. “Can I kiss you?”
