Page 129 of Say It Isn't So

“True, but you tried convincing me you weren’t even sick.”

“And now that I’m mucus-free and my brain can function properly I admit that maybe I was, in fact, sick.” Maybe. I said maybe.

He cocked a brow. “Nomaybeabout it. You were sick.”

“You turned down sex.” Ha. That was definitely worse than refusing to say I was sick.

“With a sick person? Absolutely.”

I shook my head and swung my legs out in the front of me. “I’ve never known a man to turn down sex. Maybeyourhead is the one that should be checked.”

“Nope.” He stood up and walked over to me. “I’m perfectly fine in the noggin. Just would rather have you, be deep inside you, when you have your wits about you.”

Hello, that was all I wanted—make a home in there for all I care. “Yeah, when is that going to be exactly?”Now would be great.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I shuddered at his touch. “You have no patience.”

When it comes to you? No. No, I do not. I think I’ve been patient long enough, don’t you?“I am a lot of things, baby, but, no, patient is not one of them.” I reached out and placed my hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms slowly. “Truth be told, I don’t do much dating. I just jump right to the good stuff—usually.”

He smirked. “Oh, no. Have I made a mistake, dating a girl with more sexual experience than me?”

Don’t make me laugh.I dropped my hands from him and snickered. “What a load, that I have more experience than you.” I found it hard to believe. Although, I had been with my fair share of men. . . .

“No loads around here, except the one in the washing machine that’s almost done.”

“Ah, my man doing laundry for me.” I could get used to this sort of treatment. Frankly, the thought of doing household chores made me break out in hives. I commended every stay-at-home wife and mother out there. I wasn’t much for it. Okay, that was an understatement—I detested anything housekeeping-related.

Cooking.

Baking.

Cleaning.

Dusting.

Vacuuming.

Mopping.

And laundry.

Knox tapped my nose, chuckling. “Someone had to. All those nasty towels and sheets with your germs all over them.” He visibly cringed.

“Not a fan of my germs?”

“Sweetness, I love your germs, just not your sick ones.”

“Fair. So what are we going to do today now that you have the day off and I’m all better?”

“Hmm. . . well, you could put on some clothes.”

When I’d been sick, I was so hot that I’d stuck to a bra and boy shorts. To be honest, I hadn’t really given it any thought when I’d pulled out the same thing to wear around the house today. I frowned, slightly disappointed that he wanted me to add more layers. Usually men wanted me to take layers off, not put more on. “You want me to put clotheson? All right that does it. What’s the deal?” I was getting mixed signals.

He raked a hand through his hair, looking frustrated as he heaved a sigh. “There’s only so much self-control you can expect me to have, and I want things to be special when we finally get there.”

Was he serious? Who cared about special? I wasn’t some virgin who needed rose petals spread out on the floor leading to the bedroom where more rose petals adorned the bed in the shape of a heart. I didn’t need warm vanilla sugar candles. And I certainly didn’t care about ambiance—low classical music or R&B was so not needed. I was a very sexual person. All I needed was Knox, and that panty-dropping smile of his and I was practically soaked.

“Special?” I looked at him dumbfounded. “I’ve had sex on a motorcycle, in the backseat of a car, played around in a taxi without the driver noticing”—I grinned, pretty proud of myself for that one—“major props for that one, thank you very much. And I even did it once in the owner and head chef’s office at a five-star restaurant without getting caught. Yeah, I don’t need special. Trust me. We can do it right now on the floor and I’d be perfectly happy.”

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