“We don’t have to go that fast,” I said but pressed against him.
“Too late.”
His fingers went away, his hands opened my legs and his mouth went to where his fingers were. The choir had already warmed up and within minutes, his talented mouth and tongue sent me straight to the high note of the aria.
God, it was amazing.
Before I’d finished singing, he was up and over me, sliding inside me and it felt so unbelievably good that even though the first act was pretty spectacular, the second act followed close on its heels and it rocked my world.
* * * * *
“I think I’m hungry,” I told him after.
“Again?” he asked. “By my count, you came twice.”
Grr.
He would be counting.
I did come twice, well, maybe three times or the second was just really long.
We were all tangled up so I detangled and I slid away from him and searched under the pillow. I found that Judy had not only cleaned but ironed the Night Stalker tee (who irons t-shirts?) and I tugged it on.
“For food,” I turned and looked at him. “Do you want food?”
“What did you make?”
“I was going to make steaks, green beans and au gratin potatoes. I only finished the potatoes.”
His eyes softened when he heard the menu and he said, “I could eat.”
I guess I scored a hit with the meal, even if I hadn’t been able to cook it for him.
I padded into the kitchen and went straight to the wine. I was struggling with the cork when he followed me in, wearing only his jeans. He took the wine from me and effortlessly uncorked it. I grabbed the glasses, set them on the counter and he poured.
I slopped a mess of potatoes in a bowl and nuked them. To satisfy my own hunger, I decided I would skip the potatoes and go straight to the pie. I sipped my wine and watched the microwave, feeling weird. We’d taken another step towards togetherness, the best step by far, but it still freaked me out.
“How was your day?” I asked, trying to cover my discomfort.
Boy, that sounded lame.
“Progress is better on my other cases,” he said behind my back.
The dinger went, I pulled the potatoes out, set the hot bowl on a folded towel and handed it to him with a fork. He leaned a hip on the counter and ate standing up.
I sucked down more wine and headed to the fridge.
“I’ve decided to work the Rosie case again. I’m gonna recruit Tex. He has good skills.”
By this, I meant he wasn’t scared of anything, including breaking the law. Not to mention, he thought I was a fun date.
I opened the fridge and slid out the pie.
Lee was watching me. “You didn’t say anything about pie.”
“Chocolate cream.”
He stared at me, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Something was working behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he processed it and I could tell it pleased him but he didn’t share it with me. I let it slide, he’d tell me if he wanted me to know but it didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize he liked the idea that I made his favorite pie.