Felix snickered. If jam doughnuts were the extent of Thea’s culinary appreciation, no wonder she considered ham sandwiches and crisps her signature dish.
He examined the bun, turning the plate around as if it were a rare jewel. “Are they filled?”
“Of course, she makes her own jam.”
With a sigh, Felix picked up his knife and poked at the pastry. Hewasquite hungry. He’d skipped breakfast, planning to have a protein shake when he got to work. It’d be rude not to at least try the sinful treat, so he picked up his fork and hovered over the bun with his cutlery. Before he could slice through the sticky dough, though, her hand gripped his forearm.
“Stop!” Thea said, her long fingers wrapping around his arm. In his surprise, all Felix could do was stare at her hand. Her nails were clean today, and if he didn’t know better, she’d given them a coat of clear varnish.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Pardon?”
“Nobody eats a doughnut with a knife and fork. It’s like eating a pizza with cutlery. It’s blasphemy.”
Felix’s brow creased. “That’s how they eat pizza in Italy. You’d thinkthey’dknow what to do.”
Thea shrugged, shaking her head. “Not the restaurants I’ve been to.”
Felix put his knife and fork down on the tablecloth with a soft clunk. A waft of doughy goodness drifted up to his nose, and his stomach grumbled. “You’ve been to Italy then?”
“No, but does Pizza Hut count? They sell over a million pizzas a day, and there’s not one inch of cutlery in their marketing.”
She had a point. He looked up to meet her blue eyes. “How does one eat a doughnut, then?”
A smirk hovered on her lips. “You have done it before, haven’t you? I mean, I wouldn’t want to rush you into anything. Force you to do something you might regret.”
Was she trying to be funny? Flirtatious? Normally, he’d take banter in his stride, so why did he feel like a virgin on prom night under her stare?
“Yes, but it was a long time ago. We didn’t eat many doughnuts in our house, and I wouldn’t buy them now either. Too much sugar. I like to keep in shape.”
Thea swept her eyes over his chest, and his dick stirred in his trousers. And not for the first time. He reacted similarly when first seeing her long legs at the school.
“You’re missing out. The sugar is the best bit.”
Thea picked up her doughnut and took a huge bite. Jamescaped the sides, leaving tide marks at the corners of her mouth. She’d kept her amused gaze on him the whole time, but as she chewed that first bite, her eyes closed, and she moaned in satisfaction.
Once more, Felix’s dick had ideas of its own and, at her low groan, grew semi-hard. What the hell was going on? Did he have no control over his pecker? Perhaps he should book in at the gym for a course of ice baths or get a prescription for quinine tablets. Felix crossed his legs to squash his interest and observed her, his mouth open. Only yesterday, her grubbiness repelled him, but today, his package begged him to get to know her better.
Shifting in his chair, he picked up the doughnut on his plate. It was surprisingly light. When he brought it to his lips and took a bite, the moist pastry melted in his mouth, and jam spilt across his tongue, delighting his tastebuds. He’d pay a fortune for Holly’s recipe. Felix licked off the sugar clinging to his top lip. Once again, Thea reprimanded him.
“No! You can’t do that, either.”
“I’m sorry?” Was she serious?
“No licking. There’s a special place in heaven for people who can eat a whole doughnut without licking their lips. Don’t you want a shot at eternal cloud-floating? You might even get your own harp.”
Felix narrowed his eyes, and under her observation, he took another bite, fighting the urge to rub the sugar from his mouth. It clung to him like a layer of sticky glue, and the effort to leave it there was akin to torture.
Like a gift from the gods, though, Felix’s phone pinged at his side. He glanced down at his sugar-coated fingers, then held them up to Thea as if pleading his innocence. “It looks like I’m destined to go to hell. Do you mind? I have a lot on today.”
Thea shrugged before giving a subtle eye roll as he wipedhis hands and mouth on a napkin. She looked over her shoulder, staring out of one condensation-coated window.
Leftover grains of sugar fell onto the black screen when he picked up his cell. It was a text, not from his assistant or his operations manager, but from Adrienne. He skimmed over its contents and ignored the preamble about the joys of yoga and alone time. She was thinking of coming back from her holiday early.
Felix sighed. Maybe she’d “found herself” at lightning-quick speed this time. With a frown, he read the end of her message.
Adrienne: Shall I drop my bags at the penthouse or just drive up to the country?
