“Yeah,” I say, standing. “Bad is hopeless. Untrained just means somebody hasn’t taught you yet.”
She crosses her arms, wary of where that’s going. “Are you volunteering?”
I let my mouth twitch. “We’ll have the time,” I say, and watch her reaction carefully at the reminder of all the time we’ll be spending together. Alone. “It’d be a shame not to make use of it.”
Her eyes flash heat and drop to my lips quickly before coming back to my eyes. It takes everything in me not to pull her to me and dive into those lush lips of hers.
“You’re pushing,” she says, voice husky.
I take one slow step closer, not crowding—just lessening the space between us a fraction.
“Well, I’m pretty determined myself,” I say.
“Determined how?”
“To teach you to cook,” I say, letting my smile spread at her breathless tone. “What else?”
Her breath expels on a laugh that doesn’t feel like humor at all.
“You’re trouble,” she murmurs. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I lick my lips, and her eyes drop again.
“Like what?” I ask, pleased.
“Like you’re about to…” Her throat works as she swallows.
“Like I’m about to kiss you?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Like that.”
I reach out and touch the still-damp ends of her hair. Her breath stutters out.
“I can’t help it,dolcezza,” I murmur. “It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks.”
“Rules.” The word snaps out of her, almost desperately. “We need rules.”
“What rules?” I tilt my head, letting the words brush the air between us. The way I want to brush my lips on her skin.
“You’re here for security,” she says too fast. “That’s it.”
My thumb drifts along the damp strand of her hair, just below her jaw. I want to run my fingers along her throat when she swallows nervously.
“Hands off,” she snaps out.
I lift a brow but lower my hand. “Okay, but not when it comes to safety.”
“Okay,” she says. “Fine, yeah.”
When she goes silent, I say, “Anything else?”
“No—no flirting. We keep this… normal.”
I let out a low breath that turns into a laugh. “That’s awfully vague,” I say, my voice going deep and low. “What does that mean? Be specific. Because if you leave it blurry, I’m going to fill in the gaps.”
Her pulse jumps at her throat. I watch it, fascinated. I want to set my teeth against it and feel it jump and throb against my tongue.
“No pet names,” she says, her voice stuttering as much as her pulse. “No—” She swallows, and her voice drops a fraction. “No comments about my legs. Or my mouth. Or anything related to my body.”
