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“Anyway, Gillian invited us over for dinner tonight. You in?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I’m in.”
“You’re not.”
“What?”
“You sighed.”
“No, I’m happy to. I just–“
“I don’t really want to go either, so if I can use you as an excuse…”
I gape. “Hey!”
Dana laughs. “What? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love Dana’s family. But there’s been a lot of family time ever since we started dating. Any sane man would be overwhelmed beyond belief. Family dinners, date nights, ballet recitals, book launches, all the things I would normally have the ability to opt out of from time to time. Now I’m part of the clan which means…no backing out. “It’s your call.”
“Diplomatic as always.”
I chuckle.
“I was thinking instead of dinner at Gillian’s…”
“Yes…?”
“Pizza. Trash TV.”
I clutch my heart. “God, you’re a vixen. How did I get so lucky?”
“Not lucky. Just have a hankering for pizza.”
“Detroit style?”
“Obviously.”
The way we talk, so quick and clipped, is like a different language. I didn’t recognize it before we were dating. Now, though, it feels like we’re always working through a code meant only for us. “Dessert?” I ask.
She laughs, low and slow like a ristretto shot of coffee. “Is that even a question?”
I can practically taste the sizzling tang of her on the tip of my tongue. Tucking my tongue into her tight entrance, lapping her up for as long as she’ll let me, wrapping my lips around her swollen clit. There’s no dessert better than Dana.
“Ice cream sandwiches, duh.”
I balk, my fantasy tainted.
I can hear her sneaking smile on her lips. “What else would it be?”
“You’re a demon.”
“You love it.”
I love a lot of things about Dana. So many things I may as well say I love her. But not yet. Too soon still.
“What time will you be home?”
“My home or your home?”
