“If I was seducing you, I’d take that statement to heart.” He backed up and turned away from me. “However, you have lost a lot of fluids.”
“Oh my…you did not.” I crawled up to where my little switch was for the twinkle lights I used for the bedroom portion of my studio. I had shelves above me crammed with anatomy books beside romance novels and true crime. In between all of them were plants and succulents to combat the paint smell I lived with.
He glanced over his shoulder at me with a grin, then resumed rooting around in my fridge. “I plan on a few more rounds with you, Magic. I need sustenance, and so do you. Pity your fridgie looks similar to mine. Only thing is, mine is a mini in a motel. What’s your excuse?”
“Bent cooks.”
“Bent?” He leaned back. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”
“Little late to be asking.” He’d only asked me if I was gay, not if I had a boyfriend.
“You don’t seem the type to two-time. I’m fairly sure. Besides, if you did have a bloke, I’d just have to kill him.”
“Nice.”
He shrugged and gathered up the cheese and grape
s I’d gotten the day before. He was in luck, it was usually just sweet tea in there. Whoops, he’d found that too. He poured a big glass and took a chug, then spit it into my sink. “What the fuck is this?”
“Tea.”
“It is not. It’s brown sugar water.”
My lips twitched. “Sweet tea.”
“Gross. I’m assuming you want it?”
“Well I’m not going to waste it.” I padded over to him and hopped up onto the counter. I took the glass, downing it in one gulp. He was right, I was thirsty. Though I wouldn’t be telling him that.
He stepped between my legs again and held a grape up to my lips. “Hungry?”
I bit through the tight skin of the grape until the juices rolled down my chin. His eyes went dark before he popped the other half in his mouth. “Famished.”
He lowered his mouth to mine. Funny, we hadn’t kissed before he’d sealed that smirky mouth over my other bits. And said bits were a little overly sensitive right now, thanks to that very talented mouth.
But something wouldn’t let me kiss him.
It felt too big—too intimate. Which was completely ridiculous. Hello, he’d done the most intimate thing a man could do to a woman. Well, other than shave them. But still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to let it happen.
Instead, I splayed my fingers over the expanse of his chest. He leaned back with a head tilt. “Problem?”
I shrugged. “A cross. Hmm, that seems uncharacteristic.”
“That I have faith?” He tilted his chin down to look at it. “I’ve had it since I was a boy.”
“Because you’re so old.” I dropped it back against his skin and focused on the bloom of flowers that peeked from the silky black shirt. I traced my fingers along the varying dark lines. He arched away from me. “Ticklish?”
“No.” But he backed up and reached for the block of cheese, breaking off a piece.
“That would be a yes, you liar. You know, I have a knife in that drawer.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.”
I dug a toe into his belly. “Don’t pout.”
“Why would I be pouting?” He backed out of reach to open doors until he found a glass.
“I’m just feeling a little weird is all.”