“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me chop potatoes?” she whispers when I grab each of her hands in mine but don’t do anything.
“One moment,” I murmur against her hair, rubbing my nose in it. “I haven’t gotten my fill of your smell.”
She squirms, a tremor going through her hand. “I can feel it, you know.”
“It?” I ask with a note of amusement.
“Your…thing.”
“It’s called a cock, not a thing, Anastasia.”
“Yeah, well, it’s poking my ass.”
“That’s because my cock is demanding access.”
Her face turns a deep shade of red. “Pervert.”
“Me or my cock?”
“Both!”
“Then you’re stuck with two perverts, beautiful. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
She wiggles again and that only serves to aggravate the state of my unsatisfied erection.
“You might want to stop that unless you’re planning on being my dinner.”
I feel the hitching of her breath against my chest as she goes still, then murmurs, “What about me? I don’t get dinner?”
“You can choke on my cock if you want.”
“Stop it.” She laughs, elbowing me. “I want real food.”
Her hit isn’t strong, but I stagger back due to the force of something entirely different—her laughter.
It’s such a rare occurrence to hear the musical sound of her laughter. Her eyes close slightly and her head tips back a little as if she can’t contain it.
I’m trapped in it, in how fucking carefree she looks. Ever since I first met her, she’s been a bit reserved, careful, and always counting her steps. But over the past week, she’s been slowly but surely getting more comfortable around me.
The fact that I’m the only one who brings out this side of her fills me with a raw sense of possessiveness and a deep feeling of pride.
I’m the only one she laughs around.
Only me.
“Come on. We need to make something before the movie starts.” She nudges me when I remain frozen, completely and utterly fucking smitten with a view that meant shit to me in the past.
“You mean, I need to make something since you’re hopeless at it,” I joke to camouflage my inexplicable reaction to her. “And I’m not watching another Harry Potter film tonight.”
“Why not? They’re fun!”
“They’re unrealistic.”
“It’s fantasy, so that’s the whole point.”
“Still not my thing.”
“You’re weird.” She rolls her eyes. “Next, you’ll tell me you didn’t read the books.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh my God, who are you and where have you been living?”
“In England, where those books were set and I’m still not interested.”
“How about Lord of the Rings? The Hobbit?”
“No and no.”
She gasps inaudibly, her mouth closing, then opening a few times. “How is that even possible? Wait. Are you from another planet?”
“Nope, earthling through and through.”
“This won’t do.” She shakes her head with pity written all over her face. “I’m going to have to fill in the gaps you’re missing. We’ll start with the books and then the movies.”
“Why in that order?”
“The books are always better, duh.”
I smile at the way she says “duh.” It’s a new word for her, something that she most likely learned from Gwen.
“What if I don’t like any of them?” I ask with a poker face, egging her on.
She takes the bait, a frown appearing between her brows. “Then we’ll reread them until you do.”
“We?”
“Yeah, I’ll read them for you.”
“Hmm. Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not I get to touch you during the process.”
Her face goes red again and it’s fucking adorable. “Does everything have to include touching?”
“If I can help it.”
“Fine. But you need to focus on the story.”
“I’m good at multitasking.” I grab her by the waist and lift her up on the counter. She squeals, her fingers latching onto my gray T-shirt. “Which book are we starting with?”
“Which one do you want?” she asks breathlessly.
“What’s your favorite fantasy book?”