Page 59 of Rock Me

"No, I am not that evil. I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me. Or, I could just eat what I have and you can have the green/orange gloop concoction but still eat together. I hate eating alone."

"Well, it all depends on what you have there. I can't choose without having all the information."

"Let's see." He comes over and sits down by the couch pulling container after container out of the paper bags.

The smell is making my stomach rumble and I try not to just snatch one from him.

"This is... a roasted pumpkin and garlic soup. With parmesan croutons, of course." He opens another container, and the smell almost makes me faint. "This one is a roast duck salad with quinoa and something else that looks greenish and healthy.”

“Arugula?”

“Gesundheit!”

I guffaw and let out a little snort, and cover my face with my hands. I pray he doesn’t say anything. And he doesn’t.

“...and finally, oh, dessert is a tiramisu. All homemade of course."

"Where in the hell did you get this from?"

"Emily, my ban-, er, my friends' fiancée is a pretty good cook. Which is totally wasted on him because he could live off a diet of microwave hot dogs, which he doesn’t bother to microwave, and soup eaten straight from the can. While he's sitting on the toilet."

I wander over and sit down next to him on the couch, emboldened by the food.

Shifting over to make room for me, he hands me some cutlery and I practically snatch it from him. He just laughs and pushes the soup container toward me, "I guess the gloop will have to wait another day."

"Oh, my god, my mouth is having an orgasm," I moan as I take the first sip of soup. It's still hot and sweet and rich and I lick it off my lips, not wanting to waste a single drop.

"I think it's actually supposed to go the opposite way," Jez says, and stabs his fork into one of the other containers.

"What do you mean?" I say, not even bothering to cover my mouth as I talk.

"I mean," he says and waves the forkful of duck in front of my face, "your mouth is what is supposed to be giving the orgasm."

His eyebrows lift as he gauges my reaction. Which is, to lunge forward and take a bite of the food on his fork.

"Hey!" he protests, trying to pull the fork away. But I have it trapped in my mouth as I pull the food off it, chewing as it melts in my mouth.

"Mmmmm..." I moan, releasing the fork as he stares at me, his jaw dropped.

"You little minxy food thief!

"Totally worth it," I mumble, my mouth half full.

He laughs and tries a forkful of the food for himself. "Damn. That is good."

"Told you."

He reaches past me for the container of soup and then stops, his eyes locked on my face.

When he doesn't look away, it becomes awkward and I can feel myself squirming under his gaze. Does he not like the way my hair is? Did I put too much blush on?

"Um..." I say, not knowing how else to break the silence. But he just lifts his hand to my face and his thumb brushes over the corner of my mouth.

"You had a little something…" he says, his voice deep, and husky. Then he moves his thumb to his mouth and sucks off the drop of soup collected there. The action is so unexpectedly intimate, I feel something in my groin constrict, and then a dull thumping between my legs.

"Um, thanks," I mutter, hoping he can't see his effect on me, but not wanting to tear my eyes away from his.

His mouth curves into a smile, showing just the barest flash of teeth as he reaches over, his eye still on me, and feeds me another forkful of food. Involuntarily, I lean forward and my mouth wraps around it, each tiny movement playing out in slow motion in my head. He pulls the fork away and I chew on the food, barely tasting anything.