I glance up to the window to see her gesturing at my body.
I turn around and lean back against the sink. “What are you trying to say about yourself, Blake?” I eye her, readying my response to the bullshit she’s about to spew. The same bullshit every woman is conditioned to believe about their curves.
“I eat like shit, but I amblessed, with a capital B,” she says, running her hand up her thigh and spanking her own ass. “You aren’t ever going to hear me talk shit about my body or any other woman’s body. Period.”
“Mmmm, good girl. I was about ready to shut you up.”
Her eyebrows flinch upwards. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Though I’d love to do just that, I’m starving, and I hate eating cold food. I’m going to need energy for what I want to do to her later. "What would you eat with your rice if you were cooking?"
"First off, I don't cook. Second, I would order a giant fucking serving of mashed potatoes, then I'd add butter, cheese, and ranch to them."
I can't help but scrunch my face up. "Ranch in your mashed potatoes?"
"Absolutely! If you've never tried it, then you don't know what you're missing out on."
"Fair enough." I shrug.
She curls one leg up and slides her foot underneath her so she's sitting on it. Girls sit in the strangest positions. Daisy used to do that, too. She could never sit normally in a chair; she always had to have one leg up, or both crisscrossed in front of her.
"You okay with rice tonight, or would you like me to whip you up some mashed potatoes?"
"As wonderful as that sounds, I can tolerate the rice. My jeans will thank you."
I press off the counter and take a few steps forward until I'm right in front of her. "What, these jeans?" I hook my finger into the top of her jeans and tug at it.
"Mhm."
"They can thank me right now by fucking off if they want to."
She swats my hand away and hops off the counter, brushing her front against mine as she walks around me. "They can wait. This chicken actually smells pretty fucking good."
"Oh yeah? So, you're glad I cooked for this non-date."
She ignores my question and takes the spoon sitting beside the stove and scoops a spoonful of rice into her mouth. She chews it slowly, as if she's a world-renowned food critic, trying to savor every bite for analysis. She swallows and cocks her head toward me. "Got any ranch?"
After dinner,I clear the plates and throw them in the sink. I'll do them later. Right now, I need to get my hands on this girl. All throughout our meal, she was getting me all riled up. Running her foot up my leg, chronically dropping innuendos, and goddamn, her fucking laugh was even making me hard. She knows exactly how to make a man want her, and she enjoys doing it.
The table is cleared, so I walk into the living room where I saw her venture off to a moment ago.
"Do you play guitar?" She runs her fingers down the neck of my Les Paul.
"No."
"Then why do you have one in your living room? That's kind of weird, Kass."
"My friend Raina–right, you know Raina–she plays. Clover loves to make her play any time she comes over, so I just keep it out for her." God, did that sound stupid? Of course she knows who Raina is. I’m more nervous than I thought I would be.
It dawns on me that that's the first time either of us has mentioned Clover tonight. I pause to see if she'll change the subject or ask about her.
"That's actually pretty sweet." She picks up the guitar and puts the strap over her head.
"Do you play?"
"God, no. I wish. Can you imagine how many chicks I'd get if I could shred on one of these?"
The tension I was holding leaves my body, and my lips quirk up in a tight smile at the thought of Blake wooing other women into sleeping with her. “That’s what Raina always says.”
