“Oh, definitely Patrick Dempsey.” I tip my head back. “What about you?”
He smirks. “Would I pick James Marsden or Patrick Dempsey? James Marsden. The man knows what he wants, and he has enough confidence to rock that puffy sleeve bullshit. I respect that.”
I bring my elbow back into his ribs, satisfied when he grunts at the impact. “No, smartass, I meant Amy Adams or Idina Menzel.”
“The one with the dark hair. She’s cynical about love and works too much. Just my type. My boy James needs to sweep her off to Happy Ever After land.”
“It’s called Andalasia, not Happy Ever After land.”
“I could not care less.” He drops a couple kisses along my neck, just below my ear. “All I’m saying is, this devoted Prince Edward guy is a far better pick than the stuffy lawyer.”
Cracking a smile, I say, “You would think that. You have a grudge against lawyers now.”
“Prince Edward would never take Giselle to a movie and not get her treats. If Giselle said she didn’t want them, he wouldn’t believe her. He would have woodland creatures bringing popcorn into the theater for his lady.”
“I’m so glad you’re responsible for raising a girl and you don’t believe in a woman’s right to reject popcorn.”
“You wanted the damn popcorn,” he says.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is the point.”
Cassidy looks back at us, cocking her little eyebrow. “Are you two gonna talk through the whole movie?”
“Probably,” Derek tells her, reaching into the popcorn bowl in the floor by the couch, grabbing a piece, and throwing it at her.
“Hey!” Cassidy objects. “No throwing food.”
“My house, my rules,” he tells her.
“My house, too!”
“Then you better start paying rent.”
Wrinkling up her nose, she shoots him a dirty look, then turns her attention back to the TV.
“We better be quiet,” I whisper to Derek.
“Fine, then I’ll just get back to doing this,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down the front of my low-cut dress and cupping my breast.
“You’re a menace,” I inform him.
“Your favorite menace,” he murmurs against my ear, before nibbling on it.
I sigh, half with pleasure, half with exasperation. “A cocky menace. The cockiest menace that ever menaced.”
“You should’ve figured that out before you married me six years ago. Now you’re stuck with me.”
With a helpless grin, I close my eyes and shake my head. “Not this again.”
“I’ve decided I don’t believe in divorce, so if you divorce me, you’ll be damning me to eternal loneliness. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“I am not married to you,” I remind him. “I’m not even dating you. You’re a crazy person.”
“I think you’re remembering wrong,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing my nipple. It hardens instantly. Small spikes of pleasure hit me as he continues to toy with it, rolling his thumb over the sensitive peak again and again, then squeezing it just hard enough that I arch back against him.
“You’re distracting me,” I murmur, moving my hand to his arm, poising my nails over his tanned skin, and raking my nails up his arm.