Page 50 of Art of Love
He did that thing I liked and tucked his hair behind his ear, showing off the strength in his neck and that tattoo I swooned over.
I took the knife and got a good helping of the cream first, then the jam. I spread it all over the top of my scone and dove in for a big bite, and God, it was more than divine.
“Jesus,” I breathed, closing my eyes as I savored the taste. A soft moan escaped my lips, and when I opened my eyes again, Hunter was giving me a strange look, and his eyes were fixed on my mouth. “What?”
“Do that again.”
“Eat more? Yes, I will.” I absolutely would, and I wouldn’t mind putting on weight either for something that tasted so heavenly.
“No, that sound. Make that sound again, but this time go up an octave, or two.” His eyes darkened with desire. Turning from that afternoon blue to almost navy. I remembered him looking at me like that before. It was when we’d first met.
Drunk as I’d been, I remembered that. I definitely remembered that, and now I found it hard to keep that cool edge I had going on.
The thing was, I knew this was weird. Him being here in my apartment because I invited him here was weird, but I wanted him here because I got lost in him.
He made me forget. He made me forget all the crap life had served up to me, and when I was around him, I felt like I was someone else.
Not Jia from the rough side of the tracks who had nothing and no one.
He made me feel like someone else now.
“I will not do that.” I smiled.
“Damn. Why not? It could be practice for the next idea I had in mind.” His eyes filled with seduction.
“What idea did you have?”
“Oh, if you make that sound again, I’ll tell you.” Even he chuckled at that one.
“You are so silly,” I chided. “You think you can make me sound like I’m having an orgasm just from eating cake?”
He gave me a cocky smile. “You don’t think you sounded like you were having an orgasm?”
“I don’t sound like that.”
“What do you sound like?” Something wild now flickered in his eyes.
I guess I landed myself in that trap.
“Hunter, let’s change the subject.”
“To what? This topic’s so interesting.”
I wouldn’t bother to touch the subject on my mind of the kiss on Thursday night because as much as I called him out on fleeing from me and avoiding me, I knew why he was doing it.
“It’s not. But I’m completely besotted with the scones.”
He frowned. “My hard work didn’t earn me much though, right? The jam was made with real strawberries from Mrs. Appleby’s garden.”
I laughed. “Here’s something. The answers to two of the questions and my suspicion on a third.”
“Okay, love, cough it up.”
Love. I liked the endearment. It was growing on me.
“It came to me on Friday night. Friday, when I was looking for you.”
“You looked for me?”
