voice huskier, “is to make you French toast for breakfast.”
“Um. Okay,” she said. Maybe she’d misread his signals. “French toast is good.”
“You haven’t had my French toast,” he said. “I’m going to make it for you for breakfast, and I think you’ll understand after we’re done eating.”
She thought about his salad dressing. It had damn near been an orgasm in her mouth. What could he do with something sweet?
“I’ve had some amazing French toast before so this had better be spectacular.” She paused, thinking about how sometimes she missed obvious things. “Wait, is this like, a euphemism for sex?”
Gus trilled his evil kitten laugh. “No. Though that’d be fun to do with you, too.”
“Gustave! Are you kidding me with this?” Her nipples were hard and her whole body was thrumming; it was completely unfair that he was using his voice like this.
“No. I’m serious.” Again, just stated matter-of-factly, exactly how he’d called her beautiful.
She growled in annoyance at his earnestness. “That was a hypothetical—okay, just read from that book, please. We can talk about this more in the morning.”
“Over French toast?”
She shifted in bed, turning onto her side, and then smiled as excitement gripped her. “Yes.”
“Good.” Gus started reading and only the sheer late hour and the power of his voice dragged her into sleep.
She was turned on and her head was spinning as her eyes fluttered shut—she didn’t think Gus played games outside of actual games, but this was a risk she wasn’t sure she could take. He was already in her ears, and in her head—what would happen if she let him into her heart?
Chapter Six
Gus didn’t know if seducing someone with French toast was possible, but he was willing to give it a try. He liked Reggie. He wanted Reggie. He wasn’t certain, because he hadn’t asked, but it seemed she was at the very least attracted to him, too.
Whether a relationship could work was a matter of chance, it seemed to him. Some women liked the way he looked, and apparently the way he talked. Occasionally, additional variables lined up to push things past liking—lust, loneliness, location. He’d had two serious relationships and several less serious ones; the serious relationships had started with the alignment of variables plus the certainty that dropped down onto Gus from the sky, though he’d never been this flattened by it.
He showered and brushed his teeth with the products left in the bathroom for guests, but was wearing the same white T-shirt and jeans he’d had on the day before and his face was rough with short stubble.
When he knocked on the door at the top of the stairs, Reggie called out, “It’s unlocked!” He found her in the kitchen, setting out milk, mixing bowls, eggs, and a loaf of challah bread. She was wearing the pajamas she’d had on in their video chat, the intense blue top with a plunging neckline, and Gus almost nodded in approval. Her hair was up in bun on top of her head.
“Good morning,” she muttered, not meeting his gaze. She moved past him and began rummaging around in a cabinet, bending forward so that he could see the flex of her back muscles and the stretch of her long neck. She was tense and he was so tempted to rest his hand there and massage away whatever was bothering her, but he’d only met her in person yesterday. They weren’t at the stage where he could just touch her, outside of his imagination.
“Good morning,” he replied. “Need help with anything?”
“No.” Her response was sharp and might have hurt another person’s feelings, but Dave had often told Gus to fuck off before he’d had his coffee, so this was relatively tame in Gus’s experience of people he cared about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.
He walked over and knelt beside her, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I said I don’t need help with anything.”
“Are you not a morning person?” he asked once he had her attention. “I can quietly make breakfast and not bother you, or I can go. I don’t want to get in your way or make you uncomfortable. Or be your punching bag.”
She sighed.
“Sorry. I’m an anytime-of-day person,” she said. “I just . . .”
She stopped rummaging and leaned back in her chair. Her head dropped back a bit in frustration, her chin pointing upward, and the sunlight coming in through the window made a halo of the curls that had escaped her