"Because you can't have ice creamallthe time."
"Why not?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I tried to laugh. "It's incredibly bad for you, especially in large doses."And I did mean large.
But Mason looked unconvinced. "Is that so?"
"Sure," I said. "And in case it wasn't clear,you'rethe ice cream."
"Am I?"
I nodded. "Yes. And that's not a good thing."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Well, for one thing, it goes straight to your thighs." As those word echoed out between us, I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide – or worse, scamper up to my bedroom and pleasure myself to memories of that blissful night.
See, I told you he was making me crazy.
Under my breath, I murmured, "Well, it does."
His voice was quiet in the shadows. "Does it?"
At something in his tone, my gaze dipped, not tohispelvis, but to my own, because the truth was, he'd done amazing things between my thighs.And I'd loved every moment of it.
By the time I looked up again, I felt totally ridiculous.
It was time to switch gears, and fast.I sighed. "Look, you threatened my career. In what world is that okay?"
"None," he said. "But that's not what I did."
I made a sound of protest. "It was, too."
"No. What I said was you'd regret it."
"Yeah, because you'dmakeme regret it – you know, by making it impossible for me to find a new job."
"Yeah. For nine months. Not forever."
"So?" I said. "That's still terrible."
"No. It's being up-front."
"Fine, I said. "And believe it or not, I actually appreciate it."
He gave me a dubious look. "Do you?"
"Yes. Because an advance warning is always better than a nasty surprise."
"Except it shouldn't have been a surprise."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You should've known there'd be trouble if you ditched Willow because you couldn’t handle yourself."
"Oh, please," I scoffed. "MeI can handle just fine. It'syouI can't handle."
"Is that so?"
