Page 60 of With Spite

Those were two separate things.

Huxley filled out all of his pants rather nicely.

But it was as I was looking down at his sweatpants, taking in the bulge at the front, that I realized that the man wasn’t wearing any underwear under those sweatpants.

There was no way, because there were things that swayed and bounced as he made his way toward me.

“Maybe five-foot-two and a little bit,” I found myself saying, but still staring.

He stopped in front of me, then reached over my shoulder above my head to pull down a coffee cup.

He handed it to me, and I wrapped my fingers around the cold ceramic.

“Thanks,” I said quietly.

He watched me hold the empty cup for a long moment, then took the cup from my hands and got me some ice out of the ice maker.

Or he would have, except when the “ice” came out, it wasn’t ice. But Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

“What the…”

I giggled at his puzzled expression as he pulled a red-wrapped treat out of the cup.

“I don’t drink ice water,” I admitted.

“I can see that,” he murmured as he dumped the cups on the counter beside me, then filled up the cup with water. “You don’t like ice, but you like frozen Reese’s?”

“I don’t use ice. And anyone that’s a Reese’s connoisseur knows that the only way to eat Reese’s Cups are frozen. The shapes are fine at room temperature, but the cups?” I reached for one on the counter and unwrapped it. “Perfection when they’re frozen.”

I popped the chocolate into my mouth and groaned.

He placed the coffee cup next to my hip, then reached for one of my Reese’s.

Since I liked him, I allowed it.

But usually I didn’t share them with anyone. Not even my brother.

I reached for the cup of water and drank it down.

The shivers hit me almost immediately, and I was reminded that I was wearing a crop-top t-shirt and panties.

“What are you in there giggling about?” he asked as he reached for another Reese’s.

I jerked my chin toward my bedroom, then grabbed the rest of the candy. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”

He came into my room and stopped as he stared at the screen.

“Pretty,” he mused as he saw the tall, long-haired Asian man in his battle regalia.

“Sexy,” I corrected. “I love C-Dramas.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, and all my previous candy wrappers hit the floor.

He looked down with amusement on his lips and said, “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

I shrugged. “That’s if you actually have a problem. I don’t have a problem.”

“If you say so,” he mused as he gathered the trash he had just dropped and placed it on the end table.