Page 93 of Hoax and Kisses
I take a step closer, assessing the setup. “What do you mean? There’s no true order. I put them where I have space.”
“I see that,” she says, her voice trailing. “You should order them by cockiness. Like this one, for example.” She picks up the biggest rooster trinket of them all. “This is definitely the cockiest cock. It should go at the top.” She moves it to the highest shelf.
“Are you sure that’s the one?” I ask, a smirk tugging at my lips when her cheeks catch fire.
“Matt,” Daphne calls from the top of the stairs. “Are we eating soon?”
“Once you’ve washed your face.”
She grunts, then shuts the bathroom door with a little too much force.
Zoey’s lips twitch. “Does she have a room here?”
I nod. “Upstairs. Next to mine.”
“It’s great that she has her own space.”
“She’s over here quite often. I think she prefers it.”
Her face softens, her eyes so tender it melts my heart a little further. “Not hard to see why. You’ve made it so safe for her.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I try. She needs it.”
Upstairs, the bathroom door creaks open, followed by Daphne’s quiet footsteps leading to her bedroom.
“Do you want to take a shower while I make dinner?” I force my voice to sound casual, though I’m not sure I’m pulling it off when the only thought of her naked in my house drives me out of my mind.
Her eyes widen. “You cook?”
“I suggest you get out of your dirty clothes, and that’s what you focus on?”
With a tsk, she shakes her head, her hair brushing her shoulders. “Wow, calm down, sir. I kiss you once, and you think it’s an open invitation?” She takes a step closer, laying her palm flat on my chest. “Where are your manners?”
I swallow hard. Fuck, I don’t know if it’s the “sir” or the way she’s scolding me so sweetly that turns me on more, but I’m like a dog in front of a treat. I want more. It takes everything in me to keep my cool; her proximity is fucking with my head.
“Just being a good host,” I say, voice low but miraculously steady.
Her touch on my chest doesn’t help the overwhelming need surging through my extremities and all the way down to my balls. Yeah, I’m royally fucked.
Zoey raises an eyebrow, her mouth quirking at one corner. “I’ll take you up on your offer if you don’t mind, while you whip us up something fancy.”
I blink. “Fancy, huh? And, uh, for educational purposes, what, uh… what do you consider ‘fancy’?”
Her hand falls, and she looks up at me, a glint of mischief in her gaze. “You know, five-star Michelin meals. What I eat every day, of course. Youdohave a waiter, right?”
I cough, trying to appear confident, but the reality is, my shirt is probably drenched again, this time from sweat. “Okay, I have to come clean.” I glance toward the kitchen. “I don’t exactly cook, per se.”
“I should have known you were hiding a red flag or two. Here I was thinking I’d finally found myself someone who could rescue me from my home delivery spiral.”
Her words have a searing effect on my heart. As if she’s marking me as hers in capital letters.
“In my defense, I can heat things up.”
That gets the cutest laugh out of her. The sound emboldens me. I need to hear it again.
“My buddy Oliver hooks me up with meals every week. The food at his restaurant is incredible.”
She crosses her arms, clearly holding back another laugh. “Every week? Okay, no. Second red flag.”
