Page 15 of The Sweetmate
“If you can stop making porn star noises, that would help.”
Did I make another sound?No.
He must take in my confused expression because he explains, “When you eat.”
“Are you blaming me?” The nerve of this guy.
Casey releases a loud, throaty laugh.
“It’s not funny,” I tell him. “You can’t blame me for the noises I make while eating. I enjoy food. That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you. Nor does it give you the right to make vulgar comments or lewd gestures.”
“Vulgar, lewd—no more of that. And you’re exactly right. Nobody can resist. My dishes always give mouthgasms.” He winks at me and then walks away.
When I hear the shower kick on, I burst out laughing.Mouthgasms.Is that a thing? It must be, because I definitely experienced something while eating his eggs and drinking his coffee. Which makes one thing evidently clear: I’m nowhere near equipped to deal with Casey Riis.
This man will ruin me one way or another.
Chapter 4
Casey
I’ve already washed, but I can’t will myself to step out of the shower. I shouldn’t have been so forward with her. Every time I looked at her, she seemed sad. Is it my fault that I desperately want to make people laugh? Makeherlaugh? Typically, my flirty comments bring joy to those around me. It never occurred to me that I’d offend her. But this is exactly why I need a publicist. I get too caught up and put my big foot in my mouth. I don’t think about what could be considered “taking things too far.” That little voice that people have in their head that tells them,Stop talking! You’re making things weird.orAvert this conversation! Pivot! Pivot!Nope, I do not have that. Both of my parents were huge flirts, with each other and others. It was harmless. Or so I thought.
But she’s right. We need rules and boundaries, or I will be the one to mess all of this up. I want the public to view me as a guy who can be on family-friendly networks. I’m not the bad boy the media has portrayed me to be. I don’t go around sleeping with someone new every night. That latest headline readCasey Riis has only one type: willing.At least it showed that consent is important to me. There’s always a bright side to every situation.
I can’t avoid Lisa forever. We have to meet with people from the network this afternoon. But there will be no more suggestive remarks, and I willabsolutelyhave no sinful thoughts about my publicist. Who is now my temporary roommate. Nope. No ideas of us engaging in adult activities. It’s tragic that I won’t learn what she tastes like. As a chef, I love sampling new flavors.
Frustrated, I shut the water off and stomp out of the shower. I roughly dry myself off and pause when I hear the sweetest singing voice. She goes a bit off-key on the high notes, bringing a smile to my lips. With the towel wrapped tightly around my hips, I creep into the kitchen to find Lisa cleaning and singing to herself. Her delicious ass is up in the air, and I can’t help but wonder how those globes would feel in my hands.
I have to know. I have to find out.
No. Bad Casey. Down boy.What’s wrong with me? I’m having sexual withdrawals, that’s what. I haven’t been with anyone in almost nine months for fear of the media and my prospective partner getting the wrong idea. I don’t intentionally lead anyone on. I simply like to flirt and joke around. With Lisa, however, there’s no joking around in my desire for her. But I know I can’t.
It’s like being on a diet and craving the cupcake dancing in front of you. You want it even more because you can’t have it. It’s bad for you. Lisa is my cupcake, and I’m on a diet. A strict diet. A diet that means no sugar with Lisa. No licking of the icing with Lisa. And definitely no consumption with Lisa.
She spins around and screams at the top of her lungs at the sight of me. “You scared me to death!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Only through two songs. I was hoping to catch the encore.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“And interrupt such a brilliant performance? Never.”
“Lurking is rude, too.”
“You didn’t have to clean my mess. I was coming back to get that.” I tell myself that I’m only walking farther into the kitchen to help, not to get closer to her. But if I’m being honest, I can’t stop myself from getting closer to her.
Her eyes only look at me for a second before averting away. “You cooked. The least I can do is clean.” She begins to repeatedly wipe the same place on the counter.
“Looks like everything’s clean. Especially that spot.”
Her eyes travel up my arm, down my chest, and to where the towel meets my hips. I watch as her lips part slightly, and desire graces her features. But then it’s erased almost as quickly as it appeared. Replaced with annoyance. “Can you please get dressed?” She clears her throat and there’s the smallest hint of vulnerability in her voice when she says, “You’re making me nervous.”
“Why?” There’s no fear on her face, but I’m worried I’ve offended her again or made her leery of me. “You’re not afraid of me, are you? I promise I’m safe.”
