“I didn’t think you could cook. You said you could bake, but not cook.”
Umm. Well. That was true.
“I can cook something simple . . .” She was wracking her brain for one of those things. “How about chili and rice?”
How hard could that be?
Seemed pretty easy to her. Just stick it all in a pot, right?
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. Yep.” She nodded.
“All right, then. We’ll get the stuff on our way home.”
She sat and took a sip of coffee. Lord, he made the best coffee. It was prepared just the way she liked it.
“You’re spoiling me,” she told him as she cut into her French toast.
“You deserve to be spoiled.”
Lord, he said the nicest things. How was she ever supposed to go back to not having him in her life?
It would be so hard. However she wasn’t going to waste the time she did have with him by hiding any longer.
That’s the conclusion she’d come to last night. While it would be hard when he left and she knew there would never be anything between them, she still wanted to spend time with him.
She wanted to look her fill before he was gone and if she occasionally had a naughty thought about him . . . well, that was only healthy, right?
When she glanced up again, he was looking at her strangely.
“What is it? Do I have syrup on my chin? A pimple? It’s a pimple, isn’t it? Oh no, it’s not a wart!”
He grinned and her heart skipped a beat.
Potent. He was far too potent.
“A wart? Really? You thought a wart had just appeared? Where? On the end of your nose?”
“Um. Maybe? It hasn’t?”
“Of course it hasn’t. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. You were just looking at me funny.”
Hmm.Was he looking at her funny? Maybe because he’d been thinking about her moans as she’d made herself come last week.
Fuck. That had been so hot. Every night since he’d found himself straining to hear if she was going to do it again. It was wrong. But he just couldn’t help himself.
He wished that he’d been the one pleasuring her.
Of course, he couldn’t tell her any of that. Maya had grown beet red over the thought of having a pimple. She’d probably faint if he told her that he’d heard her come.
Yep. That secret was going to have to go to the grave with him.
“Your father is planning on going back to work on Monday,” he told her instead of saying what he really wanted to.
Like,invite me into your bed the next time you get horny and I’ll help.
