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“An entire book?”
“Yep.”
“What are you reading?”
“You wouldn’t like it.” I can’t imagine him reading about a sexy Viking.
“What? Do you think I don’t read? I graduated from Clemson, too, and as I recall, our grades were pretty damn close.”
“Are we going back to that?”
“We’re not. I was just making a point. I read for pleasure too.”
“Not this kind of pleasure,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
I shake my head. I’m not telling him. Nope. No way. We are not having this conversation.
“Come on, Charlie girl. What did you say?”
I roll my eyes, and I know he’s not going to let this go. “Not that kind of pleasure, but it is just a little something else too.”
“Explain that.”
“Romance, Spencer. I read romance.”
“And they give you pleasure?”
“They do.”
He points his index finger at me. “What’s causing that pink hue to cover your cheeks?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me read one of them.”
“What?”
“I want to read one of your books. Which is your favorite? I’ll read it. I’ll let you know if it turns me on like it does you.”
“We are not doing that.”
“We are.” He spies my Kindle on the table and snags it before I have a chance to stop him. He turns it on easily, and my mind flashes to the scene I was in the middle of when I stopped reading last night.
His eyes are glued to the small device. I can see him turn a few pages, and then he powers off the device and places it back on the table. He picks up the plate that he had placed on the cushion between us and continues to eat. He doesn’t say a single word, and I can’t read his facial expression.
“Well?” I finally ask because the suspense is killing me. Is he disgusted? Turned on? I need him to tell me.
“Eat your dinner, Charlie.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t read my book and go back to eating like nothing happened. You’re leaving this conversation open,” I complain. I’m grasping at straws. I went from not wanting to have this conversation to needing him to tell me what he thinks. Suddenly, that’s all that matters, because knowing what he was reading has me turned on.
“You eat. Then we’ll talk about your book.” His voice is deep and husky, and if I’m not mistaken, riddled with the need that I’m currently feeling.
My panties are soaked.
My palms are damp with sweat.
