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“I didn’t say that, but I like to take a measured approach to decision making. I have to weigh both options.”
“Yeah?” I liked this playful, sexy version of Joss. Or maybe it was just the fact that I liked having her naked body under mine while I looked at her smiling, satisfied face.
“Yeah. So, I propose we have tacos and then do that again to see which stacks up better.”
And that’s just what we did.
Joss
“I have to say, Ben, that you make a pretty mean taco.” My body ached deliciously and my stomach was full of greasy, spicy tacos made by someone else. I was pretty sure this was the perfect end to the longest week I’d had in a long time.
His face lit up into a wide, boyish smile that was even more charming than the heated looks he wore since I opened the door for him a few hours ago. His chest puffed out a little at the compliment.
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to let my mother know that some of her cooking advice sank in over the years.”
I leaned back in my seat and pushed the plate away, nearly full with the tasty birria tacos he created like some kind of kitchen wizard in nothing but his boxer shorts. “Your mother taught you to make after-sex tacos? I guess Texas is as liberal as my mama used to believe.”
Ben tossed his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his naked chest on display, the play of muscles distracting me from the conversation. “I don’t think she intended them to be just after sex tacos, but that was just a happy accident.”
“You thought the tacos would get me naked?”
“I hoped,” he admitted with an unapologetic grin. “Actually, I just meant the tacos to be fuel between rounds.” His thick brows bobbed up and down, almost comically. “But I like this better. Much better.”
“Me too,” I admitted even though I cautioned myself to be careful. Very careful. A part of me, the warm and relaxed and totally sated part, wanted to think, to believe this was the start of something pretty great. I mean he brought food and cooked it for me, even after he’d already gotten off.
It would be a mistake to think he changed his mind about dating someone from work, but it was really hard to keep those thoughts from invading my mind because this lazy Sunday was exactly the kind enjoyed by happy couples around the world. Stop borrowing trouble. It was the soundest piece of advice my mama had ever given me, and not heeding her wise words had often led me down the wrong path, particularly where men were concerned.
I sat up taller and looked at Ben, sexy and fun in his plaid boxer shorts and nothing else. “What are you thinking?”
That was normally the woman’s line, and that thought brought a smile to my face. “How nice this is. Tacos and sex in the afternoon. I approve.”
“So, you don’t have a problem with me dropping by unannounced?”
I shook my head. “Not when food and orgasms are the result, certainly not.”
“Good to know.” Ben took the final bite of his taco, fingers dripping with spicy sauce. My thighs and my core clenched when he licked the sauce, slowly, from his fingers, bringing to mind the way he’d put his mouth on me earlier. Ben had licked me, had tasted me so thoroughly that even now my legs were a little limp. “I know what you’re thinking.” He licked his finger with a little more energy and laughed when I couldn’t suppress the shiver that shot through me.
“You know that I was wondering if this is your signature move? Reeling a girl in with your magical tongue, and sealing the deal with your famous tacos.” It was a stupid question, and I was totally fishing for information, but a girl couldn’t help but be curious about this man I’d been crushing on since moving to Pilgrim.
Ben sighed, not quite in annoyance, but more like resignation, as if he knew there was no getting out of the question I hadn’t technically asked. “The truth is that I don’t date much, Joss. Pilgrim is a small town and most of the dating pool I either work with, dated in high school, or they are the parents of one of my students. Makes dating options limited.”
I understood what he was saying, but my stomach clenched at what he hadn’t really said. I work with him, or for him, however you wanted to look at it, but here he was in his underwear and eating tacos in my kitchen. I couldn’t help but feel that hope I tried so hard not to let rise, fade a little.
Was this some sort of game? He’d already gotten a mid-afternoon screw so why stay and make lunch? Why stay at all? “Joss, are you all right?”
