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“Competition might be stiff there,” I force out past the sudden burn at the back of my throat. “But if you’re a genius, you could make it work.”
“Sadly, out of the two of us, it’s not me who’s the genius. You’re the one who invents software and sells it for a fortune.”
“That was just me getting lucky.”
She raises one brow in a move that says she’s totally calling my bullshit. “What kind of software was it?”
“M—medical stuff.”
“That’s right! I looked it up. I looked you up. Kind of. I’m sorry, but seriously. Medical stuff. Dear god! You’re totally brilliant.”
“You don’t really need to know anything about a certain field to understand what kind of software is needed. You just have to know the basics of the software itself and make something that is adaptable.”
“All that sounded like another language there.”
She watches while I finish eating, which only takes a few more mouthfuls. Even though I want to savor it, it’s gone before I even realize it. My fork literally hits the plate for another bite, and I’m surprised to see that it’s empty.
Nina turns around to the kitchen sink. She grasps the edge, looking sideways out the window. Usually, the window is right behind a kitchen sink, but not this one. I don’t think anything about this house was built all that normally, which suits me just fine.
Regularity and normalcy aren’t something that’s ever been a part of my life. In the city, it wasn’t a whole lot of fun. But out here, I don’t mind it one bit.
Nina spins around, andthere. I can tell that whatever was bothering her at dinner is still bothering her. She looks like she has a shit ton of something on her mind. Her jaw works from side to side, and her eyes dart away.
“I’m so happy to see you’re not wearing the clown shirt today.”
She’s wearing a black tank top that someone has tie-dyed, painted stars with bleach on the back, and added lace to the bottom of it. I had no idea one could pick out such creative clothing at a small-town thrift store.
“Clowns are so neutral, though,” she says.
“As in they go with everything? Because they certainly donotgo with anything, in my opinion.”
“That’s just because you’re scared of them,” she says with a smirk.
“So are you.”
“I like to face my fears.”
“I guess it’s different when you’re wearing it. You don’t have to stare right at it. You get to shade your eyes when you look into the sun.”
“Very true,” she says.
She doesn’t laugh or smile like I think she will. I never thought I’d say it, but I wish her sunshine and rainbows would come back. She’s starting to make me nervous with her ticking jaw and twitching right eye.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck it. This is a bad idea, but just fuck it,” she grounds out.
Then, she whips off her bleached tank top in one smooth motion before setting it down on the counter like she’s not just standing there without, holy mother of chickens, a bra on. Only her hair, which falls artfully around her shoulders after the removal of her tank top, is covering her breasts and nipples.
I’m speechless. I was not prepared to deal with…uh…with this. She definitely has my full attention now—allmy attention fromallthe parts of my body. Yes, that means my dick, which is now harder than iron. “What the hell are you…are you doing?” I gasp.
She blinks at me. “Flashing you.”
Is this a joke? Please tell me this is a joke, even though my dick doesn’t want this to be a joke. “I can see that, but why?”
“Because I’d like you to get involved. Maybe flash me back. Maybe have a taste. Sample me for dessert?” She shakes her head, and her hair shimmies like a golden curtain off her boobs and over to her shoulders, leaving the most beautiful breasts on display. Her raspberry nipples look very inviting indeed, and I would very much like to follow up the blueberry cheesecake with another sweet berry like that.
“Holy god! What kind of madness is this?” Has the rain and getting soaked to the skin given her some kind of fever? Maybe it’s me that’s fevered. Fuck, I know I’m not. I know that, right now, we’re both lucid and rational.
I find myself getting up and thinking about what she just said about fucking it, even though I know it’s a bad idea. I know I should turn around and leave. Maybe I could if it wasn’t for the dreams last night. If she wasn’t so beautiful. And if the sparkle in her eyes wasn’t so inviting because, right now, shewantsthis to happen. Because she was bold and made the first move and put it all out there. Metaphorically and literally. Also, there’s the fact that this isn’t the first time she hasn’t worn a bra underneath her shirt. She has showered here, slept in my bed, worn my clothes, and been her general lovely self, and I’m a man, so I’venoticed.
