Page 108 of The Home Grown
“I know a lot of crap,” he says. “Did you know before they mate, males use their secondary genitalia to sort of scoop out the semen of a rival male from the female to give their sperm the best chance? Wild, right?”
I let my jaw drop open before I snap it shut, raising my eyebrows. “Really?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“What other crazy facts do you know?” I ask.
“Oh, sweetheart … you don’t want to ask me that.”
“Why not?” I scoot closer to jab him playfully in the ribs.
“I can talk crap all day, honestly. I don’t think anyone really listens to me anymore.”
“I do,” I say. “I enjoy listening to you. It’s a damn sight more interesting than where you’re going on holiday this year, which is all the conversation I usually get.”
He tears his eyes away from the TV, peering at me with an expression I can’t place. And because I’m beyond curious, I try to coax it out of him.
“What?” I ask.
He stills. Not letting his attention wane from mine as he shakes his head, his lips twitching with the unmistakable sign of a half-smile.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“No, go on. I want to know,” I say.
He sighs, letting his head rest on the back of the sofa for a moment before running his hands over his face.
“It just blows my mind that you’re interested, that’s all.”
“In damselflies?”
“Nah, well, yeah, but me, I guess. Hutch is right. You’re a fucking ten and I’m?—”
I whack him across the arm.
“Stop it,” I say. “I’m not listening to it. Every time you try to put yourself down, I’ll be disciplining you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, creasing my brow.
He has that look again. The half-laugh and cheeky expression as he shakes his head. “Forget it.”
“Stop doing that, too,” I say. “If we’re going to bemarriedand acting like it in front of people, you can’t shut me out and leave me guessing. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, like more than just the basic stuff of?—”
He kisses me then. Pulling me towards him in a fluid motion that makes it hot and all-consuming.
My brain turns to cotton wool again.
“It’s my dirty mind,” he says, breaking away. “If you really want to know.”
“Oh? Was the sex not enough?”
He chuckles in that deep rumble that vibrates through me.
“It wasmorethan enough. It was better than I imagined.”
“Y-you were imagining it?” My voice comes out in a whisper, the reminder of my dreams, popping into my head.
