Page 55 of The Art of Being Merry
“I bet you could,” I mutter, finishing mixing the meat. I scrape the pieces from my fingers, though I still have to make patties.
I get up from the table—away from his heady stare and smug grin—and finish making the patties standing at the counter in a tense silence. I make six, though Jace won’t eat an entire burger, so there will be leftovers.
“Clementine.”
At my name, I spin my head toward him, my eyes colliding with his chest. Why is he standing so close and in my personal space? “What? It’s not like I meant it,” I backpedal.
“You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t.”
“Maybe I wanted to get a rise out of you, see how you’d react.” I don’t let my eyes train down to his area where a “rise” would be.
“And did I pass the test?” he provokes.
My brain’s already foggy, and now he’s too close to think clearly. I can’t come up with a comeback.
“Maybe think about it and get back to me if you want to take me up on the offer. I’m game.” He ignores the fact I didn’t answer his question, instead telling me he’s game. For giving me an orgasm. Like I asked him to pour me a glass of wine and not get me off.
“Sure. I’ll do that.”
He steps closer, crowding me in my space. As if I need him nearer to me. “I can’t wait to find out if your pussy blushes like your cheeks. Maybe don’t make me wait too long, Picassa.”
Heat infuses every ounce of me at what he insinuates and the sexy way he delivers it. I only have myself to blame. I started this. He was an innocent bystander, offering to help with the boys. I’m the one who made it sexual.
“I’m not sure it would be a good idea.” My words rush out in a lie. While it might be a good idea on one hand, it would be the worst idea on the other. Another colossal mistake to add to my list.
“I think you’re wrong, but there’s only one way to find out.”
“Mama,” Jace calls out, causing Dax to step away, giving me the space to catch my breath and slow the pounding of my heart. I’ve all but abandoned the task of making burgers, too caught up in this hunky man who wants to take care of me.
In and out of the bedroom.
“What’s up, Jacey?” My voice still sounds affected, but Jace won’t pick up on it. He’s leaned over the edge of the couch, watching me.
“I love you.” His words melt my heart, how he took a break from his show to tell me.
“Love you, Jace.” The words roll off my tongue like they always do—full of care and affection.
Jace smiles widely, as if I told him a secret instead of returning his sentiment. “Are the burgers ready?”
“Nope, gotta cook ‘em first.”
“Can we have fries, too?”
“If we have some in the freezer.”
“I’ll check.” Dax walks over to the refrigerator and opens the freezer, digging through the food in there, producing a bag of frozen fries. “Will these do?” His question is commonplace, as if this is something we do regularly. For the nth time, I’m hit with the contradiction between him and my ex.
“Ye-yep,” I stammer.
His smile matches Jace’s. “You got a cookie sheet? Pretty sure I can handle cooking frozen fries.”
I stare at him, incredulous. Not so much because it’s a hard task but because of how nonchalantly he suggests it. I don’t trust my voice, so I gesture to where he can find a sheet. As if I weren’t out of sorts already, now I’m completely befuddled.
Why do I get the sense I’m in no way prepared for Dax Nicholas in any capacity?
Somehow I make it through the cooking and eating of lunch pretty unscathed. With the boys in the room, Dax backs off. I’m—mostly—thankful for the reprieve. The only reason I’m not is because a part of me wants to take him up on his offer.
If only to remind myself what it’s like to get off by someone else. Ironically, the one thing Keith was good at was bringing me to climax. But it’s been a few years. Maybe even soon after Jace was born, and I won’t lie and say I miss sex.
