One she wasn’t going to back down from. “You do realize that biting off the end of it doesn’t give you the full heat. There are more seeds in the second bite.” She took a healthy bite, and felt it sear her mouth. She had to go for the beer before the chili as she felt her face flush and tears fill her eyes, but at least this time she wasn’t crying over him.
Was he going to up the ante? Habaneros were too much for her—she knew from experience—but she was damned if she was going to let James win. They ate in silence for a while, letting the residual heat in their mouths flavor the chili. James finished one bottle of beer, then started in on the second. She was almost at the end of her bowl, feeling comfortably replete. The fire in her mouth had died down to a pleasant buzz, her own beer empty, when she saw James reach for the remaining small yellow pepper.
He picked it up. “There are so many peppers that are hotter than this one,” he said in a voice that was almost musing. “Particularly in Thailand and the Far East. I’ve spent a lot of time out there, you know.”
“I don’t know anything about you,” she said, unable to help herself. “And everything you tell me I don’t believe.”
He smiled, holding the pepper by its stem. “You don’t think I’ve gotten used to food a lot hotter than this pepper?”
Oh, shit, he was going to make her eat it. She’d do it, she wouldn’t let him win, but she wasn’t going to be happy about it. She usually stopped at jalapenos, and she was accustomed to a lot
less than that ridiculously generous bite she’d taken, but there was too much at stake to back down now.
And then she laughed in relief.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in a voice far milder than the chili.
“It’s a fucking chili pepper, not the fate of the world. Go ahead and eat it. I don’t have to prove how tough I am by burning my mouth out.”
“It’s not that hot,” he said, his voice soft with reproof, and popped the entire thing in his mouth.
She was vindicated by the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the fact that he drained almost the entire bottle of beer when he finished chewing. She laughed again.
“It’s not that hot,” he said again, the slight flush around his eyes belying his words. Before she knew what he was doing he’d leaned over, caught her chin in one strong hand, and put his mouth over hers.
He was on fire. His lips were blazing, his tongue was like a firebrand, turning her own mouth into a conflagration, her entire body shooting up in white heat, melting her from the inside out. She wanted to sink into the fiery heat of his bones, lose herself in the fierce demand of his mouth, and she wanted to burn, burn forever in that heat.
He drew back, and her own reaction was stronger than his: her heart pounded, her face flushed, her eyes watered, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Or maybe that was just how she reacted to his kisses, she thought dizzily. Wanting more. Hating herself, but wanting more.
“Here,” he said, handing her half a cut lime. She had no idea where it came from—he must have brought it back when he’d replenished his beer supply. “It cuts the heat.” He took the other half and bit into it.
She did the same, letting the citric acid fill her mouth, calming the flame his kiss had started. She was almost sorry to feel it lessen. She had the melancholy feeling that every time she tasted lime in the future, she would taste him leaving her.
“Better?” He acted like he’d never kissed her. All right, she could play that game as well.
“Much,” she said, her voice slightly raw from the power of the chili peppers. “You get to do the dishes.”
“No need. We just dump them in the sink and the magic fairies will come in and take care of things after we’re gone.”
She didn’t bother to hide her outrage. “You’re going to let the dishes sit out all night?”
“As if you haven’t done the same thing,” he mocked her.
Of course she had—she hated doing dishes and her housecleaning skills were sadly lax. Only in the camper was she neat, and that was out of sheer necessity. And of course James would know that, damn him.
“Then you can put the leftover food away. And don’t tell me there’s no need for that either. Your ‘magic fairies’ might be hungry. There are children starving in China.” She brought out the old cliché deliberately.
“There are children starving in Texas, and this isn’t going to help any of them.”
“No, probably not. But we’re not wasting this.” She rose, scooping up the dirty dishes and heading into the kitchen.
He followed her, and in the tight space, so much larger than anywhere in the campers, he seemed to crowd her. He put the food in the refrigerator, and she was just about to move past him when he suddenly blocked her exit, trapping her into the corner of the kitchen counter.
“Did you wear that dress on purpose?”
Lucky she was already burning from the heat of the peppers. “What? No, of course not.”
“That’s a shame,” he said in a low voice. “Because I would so like to pull it up your long legs and find you wearing nothing underneath it.”