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Her breath catches in her throat, but her sigh isn't one of desire. It's irritation. "Are you actively trying to get a rise out of me?"
"Maybe."
"You weren't…" She squeezes honey onto the spoon and stirs. "Why is it I can't tell when you're fucking with me?"
"Faith in me, I guess."
"No."
/> "I'm always fucking with you."
"That's the thing, Dean. You're not. You're an okay guy sometimes."
"I'll take your word for it."
She turns to me. Stares up into my eyes. She must find something, because she nods knowingly. "How do you take your tea?"
"Hot and sweet."
"Same way you take your women?" she deadpans.
"That's a good one. I'll have to add it to my repertoire."
"It's really not."
It's really not. But it's cute that she's trying. She's mocking me, yeah, but she's stooping to my level to do it.
"How sweet?" she asks.
"Enough to taste it." I place my body behind hers. Revel in the way her breath catches in her throat.
She wants me. She's not good at hiding it.
I want her.
It should be easy. Simple.
But it's not.
This, teaching her, is important. It matters. I'm not fucking it up.
"Tell me when." She squeezes honey onto a spoon. The amber liquid spirals over the silver.
"When."
She slides the spoon into the tea. Stirs. "Here." Her ass brushes against me as she turns. There's no space between us. We're right there.
Inches from touching, kissing, fucking on that countertop.
She hands the mug to me.
I step backward. Release her.
But her expression isn't relief. It's like all the heat is leaving her body. Back to Icy Chloe.
The kitchen table is close. I take a seat. Motion come here.
She stays put. "Shouldn't we head out?"
