She climbed off, careful not to knee me in the process.
“Thanks,” she said, then cleared her throat and slapped her cheeks a bit. They were red, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the slapping or something else. “I need to wrap up this scene before I forget…um…things. So the kitchen’s all yours.”
Without looking at me, she tossed all the cushions back on the couch and dove straight for her laptop. Which worked for me, since I didn’t want her to see that I was I-beam rigid over that little PG-rated bit of playacting. I was most certainly not disappointed that she didn’t want to lean down and brush her lips across mine. Or wriggle her body lower…
She sat in front of her computer and started typing away, keys clicking furiously, so I put away the ladder and went to the kitchen with a deliberately measured step. I took my time, so my body could calm the hell down, and my heart could find its equilibrium again. I hadn’t been with a woman in a while. My dick just wanted to spurt because it was primitive like that.
But I hadn’t reacted like this to women in skimpy bikinis in Bora Bora. Actually, I hadn’t reacted like this to any woman, period, including Caitlyn.
On the other hand, I’d never been around anybody like Emily. It must be the novelty. She was interesting and unique. And pretty. And smart. Contradictory at times, and unpredictable, too.
That was it. Nothing special.
Feeling much better after getting my thoughts in order, I made breakfast, then placed two plates on the table and set out utensils and syrup. “All ready,” I called out.
She sat up and snapped her fingers. “Missed it,” she muttered as she joined me.
“Missed what?” I asked. I parked my butt in my seat.
“You cooking…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I can’t say it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d have to rip a bigger neck hole in your shirt.”
I laughed, pleased she was thinking about me in that way. “I don’t mind tearing up a shirt. Go ahead, compliment me.”
“Absolutely not.” She looked over the food, then let out an appreciative sigh. Fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. It never failed.
“Fine. I’m going to use my imagination, then. ‘Oh, Killian, you are so big and stupendous!’” I said, breathing hard and fanning myself dramatically. “‘I take back what I said earlier. You can do anything with your dick.’”
“There’s a difference between imagination and delusion,” she said with a sniff. But her eyes were twinkling.
I winked. “It’s not a delusion if it’s true.”
“Ha ha.” She took a bite. “This is really good. Since you went above and beyond, you can take two tubs of Bouncy Bare Monkeys with you when you leave.”
My fork hit the table with a clatter. “You’re giving me ice cream?”
“Yeah. You’re cooking for me, buying the ingredients and all…so I figured I should give something back.”
“I think I’m touched. Wow. Thanks. Not even my own sister would give me a tub of that.”
“Well, I got six, so…” She shrugged.
“Six? Did you buy every last tub again?”
“What do you mean again?”
“You bought it all last time.”
“They had one last time. Buying any was buying it all. Anyway, I happened to see them when I went shopping yesterday. But since there’s more than one, I decided to be generous.” Then sh
e added meaningfully, “With you.”
“Generous, my ass!” I said, even though technically she was being much nicer than my own sister. But I was a little put out that I’d gone to Sunny’s for nothing. “You’re giving me two and keeping four. True generosity would be splitting it fifty-fifty.”
“Or you could simply not take any,” she said. “There’s no ‘us’ in ‘ice cream.’ Why? Because it isn’t meant to be shared.”