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She rolls her eyes. “You don’t eat it because you don’t like it?” There’s an insinuation in her tone that tells me she knows that’s not the reason.
“It’s not that.”
“Then?”
“I can’t.”
She narrows her eyes. “Can’t? Here, it’s actually really easy to do. Let me show you.” She pops the piece of brownie in her mouth. She makes a big show of chewing it, pointing to her working jaw like she’s demonstrating a skill I’ve yet to learn. Then she swallows, pointing at her throat as it swallows. All the while her eyes are wide and locked with mine, a mocking glimmer in them.
After her performance, she breaks off another piece and thrusts it in my direction again. “See? Easy. Your turn.”
I huff out a breath of laughter. “I didn’t mean I don’t know how.”
“Then what? You think one little piece of brownie is going to ruin your physical conditioning?”
My response is just a dull blink and a beat of silence. I know how stupid it sounds.
Summer groans. “That’s really it? Come on. I don’t need to tell you how silly that is.”
“But …”
“No buts.” She thrusts the piece of chocolatey goodness closer to my mouth. “Eat,” she commands.
Bossy Summer is hot.
I eye the glistening moisture where she tore the piece off, contrasting so mouth-wateringly with the harder, flakey chocolate crust. “Maybe just one bite wouldn’t hurt …”
“No maybe about it,” Summer chirps.
The walls of self-restraint crumble inside me. I reach out for the brownie, but Summer pulls her hand back.
“Nuh uh,” she whispers. “Sean’s watching. Let me.”
Fuck, does Summer want to feed me? I’m thankful for the table that’s between us, because my cock is pressing against the front of my pants so hard right now.
I open my mouth, and Summer slides the morsel past my lips. The tiny gesture is so damn sexy that my balls ache.
Flavor explodes in my mouth when I bite down. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a dessert. This brownie is delicious. The taste brings me right back to those weekend mornings when I’d bake with my mom and then stuff myself until I was so full that I’d lie down on the living room floor in a food coma.
“Good, right?” Summer beams a triumphant smile at me.
“Yeah,” I mumble through my bites. “Really good.”
“Told you.”
“Maybe I need to listen to my girlfriend more often.”
“Once again, no maybe about it.”
Summer’s eyes dip to where the book sits next to my coffee on the table.
“Ah!” she exclaims excitedly. “You bought Pachinko!”
“Yep,” I nod.
She spends the next couple minutes gushing about how much she loved it, having to stop herself multiple times to not give away spoilers. I’m excited to start reading it when I get home. But before that, I want to stop by Summer’s house now that I finally have a name to call Salsa.
The shitty mood I was in just minutes ago feels a million miles away, and it’s all thanks to my fake girlfriend.
