Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

dripping with butter.

So…conundrum.

“Good?”

I nodded, mouth full. Cheeks heating again at the memory of the last part of me that had been full, though I knew that was just the beginning on that score.

He rubbed his thumb over the corner of my mouth, collecting a drop of butter that he then sucked off. He fed me a second bite, watching me all the while.

“I’d rather we do this naked,” he began, laughing as I choked.

“Is that standard romance protocol too?”

“No. That’s so it’s easier for me to fuck you the second we’re finished. Then we’ll worry about romance.”

“Oh.” Yet again, I couldn’t argue with his thought processes. They seemed sound.

Before I could figure out how to get my clumsy fingers to undo my jeans, he’d lifted the silver domed lid on another dish. Green beans. Did I even like green beans?

He lifted one to my mouth with his bare fingers, and I bit down and moaned as the crisp blend of vegetable with a hint of something spicy exploded over my tongue. Apparently I liked beans. Hell, I might even love them.

“Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”

“I hope so. I mean…” Catching his smile, I smiled too and ducked my head. It was a miracle that he still affected me this way after all these months. As if every moment together was new, and I was that same girl who’d been so thrown to have snagged the attention of this sexy, incredible guy.

“You did this for me,” he said, swallowing hard as he gestured to the hotel room. “For us.”

I nodded. “I know everything between us is usually fast and frantic. You asked for…more.”

“And then I practically mauled you the instant the door shut.” He held out my chair and waited until I sat before taking the one opposite me. “I’m sorry.”

“It works for me. I liked it. The romance stuff…I don’t know how that’s supposed to go,” I said, staring down at my empty plate.

He picked up my plate and began to put together my meal for me. A baked potato, a scoop of green beans, a juicy steak. My stomach growled and his smile grew as he placed my food in front of me. “Yeah, well, I’m not an expert either yet, but we’ll see if we can figure it out together.”

Nodding, I unwrapped my silverware and poised my fork and knife over the steak. I bit my lip. “Tray, I made an appointment with Dr. Phelps. She’s fitting me in first thing Monday.”

He continued slicing into his steak, but there was no missing the way his jaw tensed. “Do you need me to go with you?”

My prickly, sarcastic side wanted to snap some kind of response like, oh, now you’ll come with me? Because you think I’m a step away from batshit crazy? But I didn’t. Because after last night, whatever he thought about me might very well be justified. “Carly is coming.”

His fork clattered to his plate. “You asked Carly and not me?”

“I didn’t ask anyone. She offered.” I stopped there, but the implication was clear. You didn’t.

He stared across the table. “You know that was a kneejerk response the other day. I didn’t mean to say—”

“You didn’t mean to say it, but you meant it,” I interrupted quietly. “Let’s at least be honest with each other.”

Like you’re honest with him? What about the phone calls, hmm?

“I never said I was perfect.”

“Yeah, well, me either.” I laughed humorlessly. “I’d say that’s obvious.”

Even without looking up, I could feel him staring at me. “You’re seeing her to tell her what happened yesterday?”

“Yes. And I’m going to ask her to put me on medication. Hopefully I’ll be able to start on Monday.”