Page 30 of Tinder Embrace
"And who is that?" I asked.
She paused, maybe sensing I was reflecting on our differences. "A woman who loves life and has discovered at the advanced age of twenty-eight that I don't care what anyone else thinks of how I dress."
I arched one dark brow, amused. "Twenty-eight is advanced?"
She nodded solemnly.
"What does that make me?"
"An elder."
I winced. Her enthusiasm for life made her seem younger than she was, and my responsibilities made me feel like the oldest thirty-three-year-old on the planet. But she lit up my world, making everything, including the future, a bit brighter in her presence.
Chapter 13
Sophie
I grinned, enjoying Davis’s pained expression.
"So, tell me, Elder Pruitt. What have you learned about life in your thirty-odd years on the planet?"
"You make me sound like I'm in a fucking cult," he grumbled, brow wrinkled.
I lifted my shoulder, lips twisting when Davis’s gaze followed my slipping shirt.
Teasing him was delicious. I'd never been much of a fisherwoman, but he rose to the bait beautifully. With most people, Davis seemed to disappear, avoiding conflict and interaction in favor of his own company. But maybe because I was a novelty, or maybe because of the underlying edge of attraction neither of us could quite deny, he studied me like he would a strange new species. One he wanted to have sex with.
I licked my lips, pleased when his gaze focused on my mouth.
Everything about Davis made me want to push his buttons harder. The man pretended to be so unyielding, but underneath it all, he was sweet. And sexy. And fun. Maybe more than he wanted to admit.
"Come on, Davis. Pretend I'm a neophyte, innocent and eager for your wisdom."
I let my gaze drop to his lap, feeling guilty for the way my thoughts strayed to where I'd really like his input. Hint: it had nothing to do with using his mouth to speak.
"I don't kick ass, and I don't kiss it. I like to consider myself an ass-free zone."
He said it so defiantly, like he expected me to argue. It was freaking adorable. Probablynotthe effect he was going for, but it drew me from contemplating how much I wanted to sleep with him. He'd be horrified if he knew I was contemplating his ass in less philosophical terms. I broke out in giggles.
"You wanna hear mine?" I asked, batting my eyelashes flirtatiously.
Slowly, Davis nodded.
"Why be moody . . . when you can shake your booty?" I punctuated the end with a shoulder shimmy, since getting to my feet to twerk was beyond my current capabilities.
Davis's eyes widened, no doubt because he was getting an extra helping of cleavage thanks to my wide-necked shirt, and I laughed.
He slapped a hand over his eyes, slowly dragging it down his face until his craggy features and stubble were bare to my gaze. "Bee, you're gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, carefully keeping his gaze above my chin.
I grinned, triumphant. "Come on, admit it, Davis, youlikeit." I arched a brow. "You likeme. You already said as much."
After all, he didn’t give everyone silly nicknames. Just me.
I held my breath, some of my earlier uncertainty creeping in when he pursed his lips instead of responding. I didn't know why I always chose men with an extra helping of self-restraint. Maybe I was driven to push their boundaries. Bad news for me – I usually found them. A smarter woman would focus on a less serious man, one with a more obvious playful side, but quitting on Davis just wasn't my style. My sense of self-preservation was utter crap. Going all-in too early had left me disappointed more times than I could count, but something about Davis, his steadfastness, made me hope thatthis time, things would be different.
"What if I'm always moody?" he asked.
"Dance with me," I demanded, pushing to my feet.
