Page 87 of The Reason I Married Him
“So . . . you have germs all over it.”
His brow lifts. “And your point?”
“I don’t want your germs.”
“Better get used to my germs, Rowley. We’re going to be married.”
“That means nothing.”
“Means everything.” He snags the fork from me and takes another bite of the pie, nearly half of it gone now. “You realize we’re going to have to kiss, right? There’s no getting around it, so consider this fork sharing our first kiss.” He wraps his mouth around the tines and pulls everything off it. Then he hands me the fork and nods at me. “Your turn.”
I stare down at the utensil and look back up at him.
“Guaranteed, I’ll be the best kiss of your life. Just warming you up right now.”
“How on earth can you have that much confidence?” I ask.
“I just know. I work wonders with my mouth.” He winks and, once again, the innuendos.
Leaning forward and keeping my voice down, I decide to confront him about it. “You have made several references to oral this evening. You realize we made an agreement about keeping things platonic, right?”
“Yup, I remember.”
“Okay, so then why are you acting like that is not what’s going on?”
“This is who I am and how I talk.” He dips his finger into some of the cherry pie filling on the box. “I suggest you get used to the sexual innuendos. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just playing around. Why . . .” He grins like a fool. “Are you getting aroused?”
“No!” I shout, pulling Harriot’s attention.
“Everything okay over there?”
“Yes,” I squeak. “Everything is great. Just, you know, trying to stop Wyatt from eating all of the pie.”
“Wyatt, don’t forget to share.” She wiggles her finger at him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says before turning back to me. “So . . . not aroused?”
My eyes narrow. “Not aroused.”
“Good to know, just means I need to work harder.”
“Why the hell are you trying to make me aroused?”
He shrugs. “Because it’s fun.”
“Do you find it fun to be aroused with no relief?”
“Babe, I never said there wouldn’t be relief.”
“Dear God,” I whisper as I stick the fork into the pie.
“Don’t you mean . . . oh God?” That stupid smile is from ear to ear right now.
“No, it would be ‘Dear God, make him stop.’”
“Any sort of begging works for me.” He swipes up another dollop of cherry and sucks on his finger as I bring a piece of the pie up to my lips.
He watches me the whole time as I slide the fork in my mouth, wrap my lips around the tines, and pull out.
