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Her eyes pop open in surprise, and she reaches out to shove me. “You scared the crap out of me. What are you even doing in here?”
I chuckle at her. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”
“Same. Well, technically, I did fall asleep earlier, but my empty stomach woke me up.”
I laugh again, automatically standing and guiding her to take my spot at the counter. “What are my girls hungry for this time?”
She sighs wistfully. “I’ll give you one good guess.”
“How do you want it?”
“Mm, jam me, Gus-Gus. Jam merealgood.”
I snort as I turn to the fridge and look for the jar, smiling when I find the right one. I don’t have to go far to find the peanut butter, since it rarely makes it back into the pantry these days.
“Is it weird that all of my spicy dreams include peanut butter lately?” she asks through a yawn.
My brow lifts. “I think it depends on the rest of the dream and the amount and usage of the peanut butter. But my gut saysyes.”
“I’m not going to answer that, but just know this whole scene is giving me an overwhelming sense of déjà vu,” she replies, her voice thick and making her sound drunk. I force myself to take a slow, deep breath before I read too much into it.
This woman is going to kill me. I’m going to need to up my life insurance policy before I can convince her to become my beneficiary.
I blink and shake my head quickly. Since when do I rate my attraction based on the urge to name someone in my will?
I turn and slide the plate in front of her, telling myself I need to step up my game. I am Blake the Snake, after all.
“The crazy thing is, so am I … except I feel like you’re supposed to be topless by now,” I say with a cocked brow.
But she’s too busy lusting over the food to notice my flirting.
“Gah, I just … I need you to fill me up so badly …”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “You do?” I sputter. If I wasn’t fully awake before, I certainly am now.
“Shh, I was talking to my sandwich,” she deadpans before picking it up and taking a huge bite. She moans, and I smile, trying to ignore the way my body’s reacting to the sounds she’s making right now.
“Lo?”
“Whah?” she asks as she chews.
“How do you feel about having my pickle in your mouth?”
Her eyes widen the way mine did a second before, then she drops the peanut butter and dill pickle sandwich before she begins whining and frantically searching for a napkin. I guffaw loudly before I hand her a paper towel to spit into, and she bats at my chest with the back of her free hand as she gags and steals a long gulp from my glass.
“Ugh. I hate you so much, Gus-Gus,” she says breathlessly.
“That’s what you get for teasing me,” I tell her, already going back to retrieve the strawberry jelly.
“What do you mean?” she protests. “You’re the only tease around here, walking around shirtless and doing sexy stuff right in front of me.”
I stop mid peanut-butter swipe when she says it. “Excuse me? What have I been doing, now?”
“You know,sexy stuff,” she repeats, waving her hands for emphasis. “Working out in your stupid hoochie-daddy shorts, asking me to rewatch the extended editions ofThe Lord of the Ringswhile you rub my feet, calling it the ‘University of Louisiana’ and not ‘Louisiana-Lafayette,’ taking all those showers …”
My brow lifts in surprise when she admits to her voyeuristic tendencies. The truth is, while I haven’t been employing all of my usual methods of seduction, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been laying a honey trap for the past few months. I’ve just been taking a more subtle, wholesome approach. But maybe I’ve been wrong to assume the old faithful techniques wouldn’t work.
“So you think I’m sexy?” I venture.
