“We’re not talking about the pizzeria,” he repeats.
I stare into his eyes, then I watch his eyes drop to my mouth and darken.
“Okay, we won’t talk about it.”
He grins at me, sliding the back of his fingers along my cheek and into my hair.
“Been dying to get my mouth on yours all evening,” he says right before he crushes his mouth to mine, making me forget about everything but him.
I lose myself in his kiss and his touch. I soak in every single detail in an attempt to memorize it, not wanting to forget any part. When he pulls his mouth away, I keep my eyes closed and pant while he does the same.
“You’re really good at kissing,” I blurt, then groan when I feel his body start to shake on top of mine with silent laughter. “Gahh. I think you short-circuit my brain. I can’t seem to stop myself from telling you things I shouldn’t be telling you.”
“I like it,” he says teasingly.
I open my eyes to look up at him.
“It’s refreshing.”
“It’s also embarrassing.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, Princess. I prefer you being overly honest to keeping shit from me.”
My heart thumps hard. I open my mouth once more to tell him about the shop, then snap it closed when the next words leave his mouth.
“Now tell me—why are you on birth control?”
“I thought you forgot about that.”
“How would I forget about it? We just spoke about it this evening.” He frowns.
“Okay. Well, then, I thought you were going to let it go,” I try.
He shakes his head. “I did let it go while we were at the shop. But we’re not at the shop anymore.”
“I’m hungry,” I try again as I push at his chest to get him to move off me.
“You can eat in a minute.” He denies me.
“I need to pee.”
“You can pee in a minute,” he says, wrapping his hands around my wrists and pulling them away from his chest, where I’m shoving uselessly.
“I can’t wait to pee. I have a weak bladder,” I lie.
He sits back slightly.
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Because it’s my business.”
“If this is heading where I know it’s heading, Libby, it’s gonna be my business.”
“Oh my god. You’re so annoying. Get off me.” I buck up against him, but he still doesn’t move.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I will,” he says.
My temper flares. “Fine,” I huff, glaring at him. “My periods make me sick. That is, they used to until I got on birth control to regulate them. I would miss at least one day of work a month because I couldn’t get out of bed the first day of my cycle. Now if I take a couple Advil and have a warm bath, that is usually enough to ease the pain,” I finish. Then I ask snidely, “Are you happy now?”
“I’m not happy that you’re in so much pain that you gotta miss work, but I’m happy to know so that if something like that happens, I can help you out,” he says softly, running his fingers through my hair. “Don’t be pissed at me for asking.”
“I’m not pissed,” I lie.
“I want to know everything about you, Libby. And I mean everything,” he says, his voice tender.
“Do you think maybe we can start talking about that kind of stuff on . . . say . . . date number twelve?”
“No.” He shakes his head, and I return to glaring at him.
“You know, you are seriously annoying.”
“You’ve mentioned that before, Princess.”
“Well, I don’t want you to forget that, so I’ll tell you again. You are annoying—seriously annoying.”
“But you like me.”
“I’m not sure about that anymore.”
“Really?” He raises a brow. “Your tongue in my mouth and those sweet little sounds you were making a few minutes ago say differently.”
“That was a few minutes ago.”
“So if I kiss you now, you won’t kiss me back?”
“Nope.” I shake my head.
He grins, then lowers his mouth to mine, nipping my bottom lip.
“Kiss me,” he coaxes, kissing my upper and then bottom lip before nibbling on them.
“No.” I try not to give in. I really, really do. But when his hand moves up my side and his thumb sweeps under my breast, I lose all rational thought, open my mouth, and kiss him back.
“We need to stop,” he says, pulling his mouth from mine sometime later.
Once more, it takes a few seconds for me to get my eyes to open. I shift under him, feeling the hard outline of his cock through his jeans and mine. I shiver.
“Yeah, we really need to stop,” he mutters. But instead of stopping, he kisses me once more. This means by the time we do stop making out on my couch, we end up eating really cold pizza.
Still, I’m pretty sure it’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.