Authors: Jennifer James
Oh crap. I’m way too fat. But he did see me naked. And he didn’t run out the door screaming. Do I even remember how to have sex with another person
?
We stared at each other. Tom cocked his head and seemed to reach some kind of conclusion because he sat down at the table and pulled a bunch of stuff out of the bag. I watched over his shoulder as he started to disassemble my phone.
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
“YouTube.”
“Really? There isn’t some tech god school you went to?”
“Nope. YouTube actually has loads of useful videos on it. You’d be surprised.”
The oven’s preheat function chirped, and I slid the tray inside then set the timer. The timer was essential or the rolls would be burned. It’s too easy to forget about stuff in the oven. Things on the stove top I’m fairly reliable with. Once it was in the oven, all bets were off.
“I saw my mother today at the store.” The words burst out of me, and I felt as if I’d vomited all over him. “My sister is pregnant.”
One elegant dark brow rose and he looked at me for a minute before he turned back to the partially disassembled phone.
“Wow.”
“Yeah. But it was weird. I really don’t care. I mean, I care that she keeps trying to hurt me. That she wants to hurt me. I mean, she’s my sister, so you’d think she’d at least be, I don’t know…a little contrite? But when my mother told me, I realized I don’t care. About any of it. It’s not worth my energy.”
“Good. That’s great, Abby.” He tossed me a smile over one nice broad shoulder.
Hovering and without a task to complete made me nervous. I fidgeted and the nerves got worse. Tom’s fingers looked too big to be handling all those tiny parts with any dexterity, but he made it appear easy. I wiped the flour from the counter and cabinets to stay busy.
“Are you gonna tell me what movie you picked?”
“Nope. You’re going to have to sit down and watch it to find out.”
“All right. But I can’t stay up until four a.m. again. I’ll never be on track to get up for work on Monday morning if I do.” It hadn’t taken long to wipe the counter down. Cleaning up the floor in front of the cabinets took even less time. I leaned back against the counter and watched him work on my phone some more.
“I’ll make sure to wear you out then.” One hand dropped down to his pocket and rubbed the top of his thigh. I grinned. Then I blushed. The man’s innuendos brought out the awkward sixteen-year-old who lived in my head.
“Who said you’d be wearing me out? I might just wear you out, mister.”
“You’re welcome to try.” The satisfied male grin on his face was so full of lust, I felt flustered. I turned around and went to the stove to switch the burners off. Had anyone ever looked at me that way before?
If he keeps it up, my panties will catch on fire
.
“Would ya hurry up already?”
“Yes ma’am.” Tom stood up at the table and held my phone out with a flourish. “Ta-da. Your phone, my lady.”
“Wow. Well, this confirms it for me. You’re the biggest geek in the room.” The screen looked as good as new. Putting it in my purse right now seemed like a good idea. “Get some bowls down for me?”
“The work never ends around here.”
When I returned to the kitchen, he held the bowls out to me. I reached to take them but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he pulled on them until the distance between our bodies closed and we stood toe to toe. I tilted my head back to see his face. He leaned down, gave me a quick peck on the tip of my nose, and let go.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“I like your freckles.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I stared down at the floor and then up at his face. The collar of his shirt gaped and showed where the hollow of his throat met his chest. I stood on tip toe for a second and pressed a quick kiss there, in the little valley of skin. He smelled amazing.
“Why did you do that, Ms. Fine?”
I shrugged and grinned. “I like the way you smell.”
I turned to walk over to the stove and he stopped me, both of his hands gripping my waist from behind. Long fingers tightened in a soft squeeze.
“You can’t walk away now. I need more than a two second teaser where I barely feel your lips.”
“Wait a second. Are you saying it’s okay for you to steal a kiss, but not for me?” I tilted my head to the side and looked up at where he loomed over me.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His attention fixed on some point down my shirt. “And you are also now expected to always wear this type of shirt for all our dates.”
“Who says there’ll be more? Who even says this is a date?”
“I say.” He pulled me back until his hips fit nice and snug against my lower back. “I’m exercising my alpha male rights.”
“Well, then I’m going to exercise my alpha female rights to kiss you whenever and wherever I want.”
Holy crap, I can’t believe I said that
.
“That’s not an alpha female right.”
“Says who?” A wriggle against his hips and he groaned under his breath. “Don’t want me to? Fine. I won’t do it anymore.”
“Oh you better. Just make it a little longer than a tiny peck where I barely feel those luscious pink lips of yours.” He spun me around, took the bowls away, and placed them on the counter. “In fact, I think you should get started right.”
Tom put his hands under my butt, set me on the counter, and stood between my legs, up tight against my body. I got the feeling he’d like to have sex this way. He’d done this twice. I filed the thought away for later. If we ever got around to sex. Which I thought we would, just not sure when. Condoms were a new must buy on the old shopping list.
“Now then. Kiss me, wench, and maketh thy lord happy.” The words rolled out in a terrible pseudo-British accent.
I laughed at the quip. “When did we get to the medieval faire?”
He grinned and leaned down, brought his mouth close enough for me to reach. The butterflies in my stomach turned into wonderful electrical tingles when our lips met. The slow tangle of our tongues and the way he nipped my lips with his teeth encouraged me to crush the front of my body against his. When his thumbs brushed over my nipples through my shirt and bra, they were completely hard.
“Mmm. No sports bra.”
I arched my back, and his mouth trailed over my throat. I tugged his shoulders for more but he held back.
“Get over here. Closer.” I put pressure on his neck, and he chuckled in a low, masculine sort of self-satisfied way. “It’s not funny.”
The tail of his shirt came free of his waistband, and I ran my palm up his back, the muscles that moved under his skin so wonderfully firm. He ground against me with a deeper kiss, and put his right hand under my shirt and into the cup of my bra.
The buzzer for the kitchen timer sounded, and I retreated reluctantly. He backed away, and I hopped off the counter after he planted another quick peck on my nose. If he kept it up, I would expect them all the time.
“
Robin Hood: Men in Tights
or
The Princess Bride
.” I grabbed a pot holder to pull the cookie sheet out.
“It was the accent, right?” He moved out of the way when I brought the hot tray over to the counter and put it on a trivet. “I’m still not telling which one.”
“Stubborn much?” The line of his jaw ticked and he crossed his arms. I tossed a few rolls on a plate and laughed. “Fine. Come on. I’m starving.”
Chapter Seven
We settled on the couch, and I fished around until I found the remote wedged between two cushions. When Fred Savage appeared on screen, I let out a whoop.
“I love this movie. It rates up there with zombies. Do you think George Romero had any idea of the genre he created when he was filming
Night of the Living Dead
?”
He took a bite of one of the rolls. “I don’t think anyone had any idea the whole thing would blow up like it did.”
“Well, they’re awesome. You don’t think this is a girl movie?” Charlie always said that. He didn’t like
The Princess Bride
’cause it’s a “chick flick.” I wondered for the millionth time what I’d ever seen in him.
“No. It’s got sword fights, pirates, monsters, torture, poison…. What’s girly about that?”
“Well, it does have a princess. And true love.” He laughed at my imitation of the priest’s accent from the wedding scene.
“Every woman is a princess to someone. Or she should be, anyway.” He dipped one of his rolls in the soup and took another bite. “I love these things.”
My eyes pricked with tears, and I blinked to clear them. An offhand remark about princesses and women is not a reason to blubber.
Peter Falk started to read the book and Fred’s character kept interrupting him to complain. One of my favorite parts of the movie. Their banter is wonderful and feels so authentic.
This movie made me feel as if I watched a dream team of actors assembled for a one night only showing. Andre the Giant as Fezzik, Robin Wright as the female lead Buttercup—before she married Sean Penn, who is an awesome actor but I’ve always thought must be a maniac in person—Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya, Cary Elwes as Buttercup’s true love Westley….
I didn’t get to eat my soup until Princess Buttercup got kidnapped. It was too hot. Tom took my empty bowl and asked if I wanted seconds. I didn’t, but he came back in with a full bowl.
“You like the soup?”
“Yep. You’re going to spoil me into expecting this kind of stuff all the time.”
I shrugged. “I like to cook. I don’t like the cleanup part though.”
“I don’t think anyone does.”
Poor Buttercup sat blindfolded next to Wallace Shawn’s character Vizzini with no idea Westley, whom she believed to be dead, sat across from her. I crossed the room and retrieved my bunny slippers then wiggled my frozen toes and watched the bunnies’ mouths open and close with the movement. It had been a damp and chilly day.
He gave them a narrow eyed look before he laughed and shook his head. “You’re wearing killer rabbit slippers.”
“Yeah. So?” I liked my slippers. “Make fun of them and they’ll bite you on the ass.”
“Geek.” He coughed the comment into his hand.
“Hush. They’re warm. So they’re fun and functional. Multi-purpose.”
I flopped onto the couch and pulled the fleece blanket on the back down without dumping soup all over him.
We watched the movie—well, Tom watched and ate his dinner, while I tried not to stare at him. He took his empty bowl into the kitchen when he finished. When he came back, he shifted around until he settled me against his chest and put one arm around me.
“Did you know I threw Cupid in the garbage yesterday?” I asked.
“No. But it sounds like something you’d do.” I snuggled my head against him and smiled when he quoted one of the lines from the movie.
“I still say you’re the bigger nerd.”
“You’ll have to come over and find out.” The arm around my waist squeezed.
“I’d like that.” I sat up with a start. “Oh, shit. I need to turn off the chicken soup.”
“You already did. Relax.” He pulled me back down and against his side. “You mind sharing the blanket? My feet are cold.”
“Uh-huh. A few minutes ago you laughed at my bunny slippers, but now you’re whining about cold feet. I see how it is.” We maneuvered around until he was well covered and went back to watching the movie. The fleece blanket made a comfortable, warm cocoon. A part of me still believed him to be too handsome to be trustworthy. I tried not to listen to it very closely. If he’d wanted to, he could have had sex with me yesterday. He’d gone home instead.
Westley and Buttercup were running along the bottom of a valley toward the Fire Swamp when a yawn big enough to pop my ears stretched my mouth. Snuggled up against Tom’s warmth under the blanket with a full belly made me drowsy. “Sleepy?”
“Yeah. I don’t usually stay up as late as yesterday.”
“And here I thought you were a party animal. Do you drool?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe. I might, all over your sexy self.” My eyes closed.
“It’s hard to be me.”
“I’ll bet.” His hand ran down from where it rested against mine and cupped the side of my butt. He squeezed me so I turned my head more firmly into his chest and bit him. Tom jumped, and I chortled. “Gotcha.”
He shook me. “Wake up.”
I grumbled but looked at him. “What?”
“You’re not supposed to fall asleep until after sex.”
“Is that some kind of rule?” The bottom of Buttercup’s dress caught fire, and Westley put it out with cool efficiency. “Look out, kids. There be giant man-eating rodents ’round these parts.”
Tom laughed at me, and my smile stretched into a grin. Three minutes later, I drifted off again. Goosebumps chased over my skin when his fingers slipped along the outside of my bra. I slid my hand into his untucked shirt and felt the fuzz of a happy trail under my fingers. Then I stuck my finger in his belly button and squiggled it around.
“Belly button rape!”
He laughed hard, really hard, and the next thing I knew, he fell onto the floor and yanked me down, too, blanket and all. He straddled me and began to tickle me mercilessly.
“Do you yield?”
“Nay! It’s only a flesh wound!”
“Nerd.” He leaned down and kissed me. He tried to retreat, but I grabbed his shirt front and yanked him down for more. The desire to rip his shirt off and expose the flesh underneath built beneath the heavy weight of his body on mine. I got frustrated with the buttons on the thing and tried to jerk it apart like someone from a stripper movie. The effort failed, but he yanked it over his head and tossed it aside.
Nicely defined muscles flexed under my palms. He wasn’t cover model ripped, but there was evidence he spent time with weights. I thumbed one nipple and ran my hands down his sides. Only a little hair, not tons, thank God. Super hairy dudes are a no-go for me. Sorry, Steve Carell.
Tom got to his feet and tugged me until I stood up. “Come on. Not on the floor.”
“Why not? I was enjoying the floor.” He drew me down the hall behind him. Those butterflies came back but this time they’d morphed into an entire flock of chimney swifts that tried to fly right out of my mouth.