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My smile grew. “Lucky, that’s so sweet of you.”
Holding out his hand for mine, he drew me in. Serious grey eyes looked into mine. “I want you to be comfortable here.” He smirked. “It’s just cookies, but-”
I shook my head. “It’s not just cookies. It’s care and attention and effort. Sometimes cookies mean everything.”
“You’re not that difficult to please, are you?” he mused.
I thought about it. “I would say I’m difficult, but not difficult to please. Does that make sense?”
He pressed his lips together. “No. I would say you’re complicated, but not difficult. At all.”
Perhaps this was the wrong time to talk about OCD. It was literally our first night on our own with Brayleigh. Maybe I should have laid it out for him before. The obvious truth of that struck me all at once. Here I am agreeing to move in, and he doesn’t even know what he’s signing up for.
“Hey.” He jostled me lightly. “What are you talking about in there?”
I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. Did I make him serious? “Were you always serious like this? Or did I do this to you?”
“I have my serious moments. And my quiet moments.” He shrugged. “I guess I behave differently under different circumstances. When I’m playing, I’m filled with energy. When I’m teaching, it’s another type of performance, one where I’m constantly gauging my audience. That requires a focused type of energy. With my sisters, with Hope and Brayleigh, I’m always a little cautious. Watchful.”
“And what are you with me?”
“A combination. Combined with the intensity I take on when I’m learning something new.”
That made sense. “There are things I need to tell you about my OCD.”
“Sure. I haven’t done any research other than after you initially told me about it. I wanted to wait and let you tell me how it is for you as you’re ready. Would you like me to learn on my own?”
“Maybe in a couple of days we can look up some things together and I can use that to explain to you how my OCD affects me. And maybe tonight we can drink tea and eat cookies.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “We’ll practice for when we’re old people.”
“I’m going to be old before you,” I groused.
“Men don’t live as long as women. It was very,” he paused and then smiled smugly as he used my word against me, “prudent of you to pick up a younger man.” He squeezed me close, muffling my laughter against his chest. “Cougar.”
“Lucky! No!” I slapped him and pointed my finger to make my point clear.
“Mm, I’m having librarian fantasies.” He ran his hands firmly up my back. “You can sit at a desk with a book. I’ll be loud. You can smack me with your ruler…”
“You’re mixing your fantasy roles. I think that’s librarian mixed with old fashioned schoolteacher…or a nun.”
“You killed it.” He laughed. “You killed my fantasy with your talk of nuns.”
Now that I had at least broached the subject, waiting to discuss OCD seemed like a much better idea.
“Going with the smacking theme, I could be a dominatrix?”
His eyes lit with interest. The idea had merit.
“Ruby suggested I buy you a cock cage,” I murmured.
His eyes bugged out of his head. “What? No! Why would she say something like that?”
I shrugged. “Could be because I told her what you did to me.”
His brows scrunched in confusion. “What did I do?”
“Before we went to Amber’s? You left me … unfulfilled?”
