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The door opens and closes, and Carter bounces his eyebrows suggestively. I grab a sweatshirt off the back of my chair and ball it up before throwing it at him. Paige walks in just in time to see it hit him right in the face.
She hums in amusement. "Nice shot."
"I try."
Carter huffs and murmurs something about us being the worst as he goes to leave the room, but just as he gets past Paige, he turns around and makes a hole with one hand and proceeds to stick his index finger in and out of it.
Paige rolls her eyes playfully. "You have the maturity of a thirteen-year-old boy. You do realize I can see you in the mirror, right?"
He freezes for a second, as if getting caught actually has an effect on him, and then starts doing it more as he walks out of the room, looking Paige right in the eye as he does. Once he's gone, she turns to me and places a hand on her hip.
"What?" I hold my hands up in innocence.
"Do you two just sit around and talk about your sex life? Maybe while stroking your cocks together too?"
I cock a brow at her and chuckle. "Why? Does that thought turn you on?"
She smacks me in the arm, and I fake a yelp.
"Oh, don't be such a baby."
Holding out my arm, I pout like the biggest man-child in existence. "Kiss it better."
"Absolutely not," she deadpans but I don't relent.
Finally, she rolls her eyes and places a chaste kiss on my arm.
"Thank you," I tease. "And for the record, he saw the note you left me on the nightstand. So him knowing is your fault. But if you'd rather picture us jerking off together for your spank bank, feel free."
Paige goes to smack me again, but I jump away just i
n time to avoid her and run into the kitchen.
THE TWO OF US sit on the couch and watch TV for a bit, which eventually ends up turning into Paige teaching me how to cook. When she turned on the food network, I was so confused by how they were able to take a bag of flour and a couple other ingredients, and turn that shit into a full damn meal. Paige, of course, took that opportunity to insist she show me how to cook.
"How do you even know how to cook?" I ask her. "You're just as silver spoon as I am, if not more."
She continues kneading the dough like a goddamn professional. "My grandmother taught me. She was never really big on hiring chefs or anything like that. So, whenever I would spend the weekend at her house, she would cook and show me how to make different things."
I try to whisk the eggs like she told me, but I genuinely have no idea. Finally, I give up and walk until I'm standing behind her. My arms come around and I press my front against her back. She tenses for a second, and then melts into my touch.
"I thought you were whisking."
Pressing a kiss to where her tank-top leaves her shoulder exposed, I feel her shiver. "I was, but I'm no good at it, and I don't like not being good at things."
I kiss her skin again, and this time it must tickle, because she giggles and shies away. I hold her still and keep doing it, then start burying my nose into her neck. She must not have realized how much dough was stuck to her hands, because when she goes to push me away, it ends up all over my face and in my hair.
She gasps when she notices it, and I stare at her gaping until she breaks out in a fit of laughter.
"Oh, you think that's funny?" I reach over and grab a handful of flour.
"No." She raises her hands in defense. "It's not funny. It's not funny! Jace!"
I clap my hands together, and the flour covers everything around us, including her. She blows it away from her mouth and cracks one eye open slightly, her floury face making her green eyes almost glow.
"Seriously?"
Smirking, I can't stop myself from winking at her. "Seriously."
