He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I laugh and take another bite. But after I chew and swallow, I ask, “How about you?”
“How about me what?”
“How does kissing me compare to your favorite pizza?”
He sets his piece down, wipes his mouth, then leans over and swipes his thumb over the corner of my mouth. He lifts the little smear of pizza sauce to his mouth and sucks it off his thumb. “I’d give this pizza up to kiss you again in a heartbeat, Duchess.”
I like that a lot. I lean in. “Well, good news, you don’t have to. You can kiss me whenever you want.” I pucker up.
He smirks and lifts the pizza. “I didn’t say I wanted to kiss your mouth.”
I gasp and my cheeks get warm.
He looks very proud of himself.
So, I just say, “Okay.”
He chokes as he tries to swallow. After coughing, he says, “You have to stop.”
“I’m practicing flirting. How am I doing?”
“Fine.” He blows out a breath. “Good. Except that’s a little direct.”
“You’re the one who was direct first.”
He nods. “Okay, fair enough. Christian probably won’t talk about…that.”
“Kissing other parts of me than my mouth, you mean?” I ask, nibbling on my pizza crust.
Jonah shifts on his chair, and I grin. “Yes. That.”
“I like when you do it,” I tell him. “It makes me hot and tingly.”
Jonah freezes in reaching for his beer. “Jesus, Linnea.” He frowns.
“What? Isn’t that the point? Wouldn’t you be disappointed if you talked about kissing me andIdidn’t get hot and?—”
“Okay,” he cuts me off. “Right. So I need to stop too.”
“Please don’t.” I don’t mean for my voice to get soft and husky. It just happens.
His stare is direct. And hot.
“We shouldn’t talk about these things. Even in practice.”
“You’re the perfect one,” I tell him. “I trust you. You can tell me what I’m doing right. And wrong.”
“You’re not doing a damned thing wrong.”
“No?”
“No.” He shifts on his chair again. “You’re being honest and open and curious and that’s damned hot.”
Oh. Good. I smile widely. “Then why stop?”
“Because it makes me want things I shouldn’t want.”