I stared at him.
He wasn’t quite done.
“Bonus, your overhead will be lower since we’ll be sharing expenses. That means you can quit Smithie’s, take on more hours at Computer Raiders, and the rest of the time, focus on your future.”
“Are you asking me to move in with you after we’ve been seeing each other for less than a month?” I queried.
He looked side to side, then pointedly down at me in my jammies sitting at his island, where my butt had been every day practically since we met, but definitely since we fell into our Food Regime.
What could I say?
I liked to watch his ass in his shorts while he was at the stove and this was the best vantage point.
“Okay, Danny, I catch your point but there are extenuating circumstances to why I’m staying with you,” I pointed out.
“Do we fight?”
“No…”
“Gert likes me.”
I pressed my lips together because I didn’t think it was appropriate that I wanted to bust with laughter, whether it be joyous or hysterical, I didn’t know.
His stare grew intense. “Do you got some issue with me?”
“Of course not, you’re…you’re…” I was at a loss for words, so I simply tossed my hand his way and finished, “You.”
“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement, Evan,” he returned.
Seriously?
“Well, you know,” I continued, feeling awkward, because I wanted what he wanted, like a lot, for many reasons. And the scary part of that was that going back to school was not the top slot like it always used to be when I considered my life priorities (Mag was). But even so, this was too fast even if it was great, and I didn’t want anything to mess it up. “I do have issue with you putting fresh, hot blueberry pancakes à la Danny ‘Mag’ Magnusson in front of me then instigating a deep conversation before I even got them buttered.”
“Evie,” he said low. “Not sure you caught this, honey, but I’m bein’ very serious here. And bein’ serious, I’ll remind you that you woke me up, so I assume you were conscious and reasoning when I was moving inside you earlier.”
One could debate the “reasoning” part, considering, even when he was being gentle and taking it slow, having sex with him was mind scrambling.
But I was definitely conscious.
Though I could make an argument all of that was a dream.
Which, of course, was actually a point for his side of our current discussion.
“Danny,” I whispered.
“A woman you admire couldn’t get through the roadblocks of her time. But you can. You’ve been held back long enough. Don’t slip into a position where you hold yourself back out of habit.”
I studied his face, took a beat and then said calmly, “I love that you want to take care of me, but—”
That was as far as I got before he interrupted me.
“Yeah, I do. But that isn’t what this is about. For me, you’re super fuckin’ cute, you’re a fantastic cook, you’re a great lay, you listen, you’re thoughtful, you’re nice to people, you’re interesting, you’re funny and you’re a massive dork. In other words, I like having you around. I like it in a way, I’ve made it no mystery, I think we got a future. For you, I hope you get some of that back. Though I’m no dork.”
He had that right.
“So it’s soon,” he went on. “You’re right. But I know a lot of folks who jumped in fast because they knew there was something there and every single one of them are married and got kids.”
He was talking about the Rock Chicks.
Not to mention Lottie and Mo who got super, double extra serious after just a few days.
Though I suspected Mag had an ulterior motive.
“And you don’t want me dancing anymore,” I stated carefully.
“And you don’t like to dance,” he retorted.
I could not argue that.
But I could still argue.
“Danny, I mean no offense, really, you make me happy, the happiest I’ve ever been. I love what we’re building. But for a step like that, this is way too soon.”
He stared into my eyes.
Then he looked down at his plate, muttering, “Right.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I told him earnestly.
He again looked at me and I held my breath when he did.
“Just to confirm, you were conscious and reasoning when I was moving inside you earlier, yeah?” he asked.
God, it so totally felt as profound to him as it had to me.
And I loved that.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You ever have that before?” he pressed.
No.
Profound and consuming sex that came naturally and felt beautiful?
Not even close.
I shook my head.
“Babe,” he leaned into a hand on the counter toward me, “it’s you.”
“What’s me?” I whispered.
“For me.”
I felt my lips part.
Oh…my…God.
“And this isn’t about your burgers, or your steaks. I knew from then,” he kept at me, “but every day since then, you made me know it even better.”