“Okay, Chace,” she whispered immediately.
“Good,” he kept growling, “we got that down. Now we’ll get this straight and not mixed. You know my shit’s f**ked up. I’m workin’ on that. You popped up with bad timing once and surprised me another time. I didn’t handle either of those well. The shit I’m workin’ through, I cannot promise I’ll do any better. What I can promise is I like the way you dress. I like the sound of your voice. I like the way you smell. I like that your hair feels the way it looks, like silk. I like the way you taste. I like that you got a backbone. I like it when you get scared of me. I like it when you stand up to me. I like it that you care as much as you do for a kid you don’t know jack about. I like it that you have no clue how to kiss but still, the two kisses I’ve shared with you are the best I’ve ever had. By far. I like all of that more than is healthy for me but especially for you. But I like it so much, I’m gonna ignore that and hope like f**k this doesn’t get jacked like everything else in my life has a tendency to do. I like it so much I’m willin’ to take that risk. I like it so much that I’ve decided you’re gonna take that risk with me. And I’ll make that straight too. I’m not asking you to take that risk, I’m tellin’ you you’re doin’ it. That means I’ll be at your place at seven with pizza, beer, a sleeping bag and food for our kid.”
He moved infinitesimally so his mouth was a breath away from hers and he could smell her gum. The look on her face, the feel of her in his arms and the smell of her gum cut clean through him like it always did.
Then he finished but he did it on a whisper.
“Now, baby, are we straight?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, proving, after his caveman speech the baby thing worked f**king great.
“Good,” he muttered, fighting a grin.
“I don’t like beer,” she announced quietly.
“What do you like?”
“Wine.”
“What kind?”
“With pizza?”
“Yeah.”
“Red.”
“Dry or sweet?”
“Dry.”
“You got it, honey.”
The tip of her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, his lips were so close it grazed his and when she tasted him, her body gave a soft jolt and her tongue disappeared. But it was too late, he felt that score through him and pressed her deeper into the door.
Her fingers curled into his jacket and she went on in a whisper, “I don’t like pineapple on pizza.”
“Works for me because I don’t either.”
“Okay.” She kept whispering, bit her lip, let it go and admitted, “You’re kinda freaking me out.”
“Good.”
She blinked again and her voice was pitched a half octave higher when she asked, “Good?”
“Faye, darlin’, you’re on your game, I’m f**ked. I keep you off-balance, I got the upper hand. What I can tell, with you, I’m gonna need the upper hand.”
“I, uh… that sounds… um… are you sure that in a, uh…” she stammered exposing something he already knew, that she had absolutely no clue how to play a man, the game or be in a relationship and that was cute and hot too. She finally finished, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“My job in that is to make it good for you.”
“Oh,” she breathed and he again fought a grin.
Then he asked, “You get that?”
“No,” she admitted softly.
She didn’t, he knew it and that was also cute and hot.