Page 91 of With Spite

“Now, let’s talk about how you found out it was my birthday yesterday, and then you didn’t tell me that it was your birthday today.”

She flushed bright red with embarrassment.

“I, uh…” She hesitated. “I just don’t like to celebrate it.”

I knew that.

A good stalker would know these kinds of things.

That was probably why I missed the date.

She never celebrated it, so of course it would never occur to me to note the date.

But that time had passed.

We would be celebrating from now on.

“You do now,” I teased as I tucked a few stray locks of hair behind her ear.

Ones that’d escaped from her perfect hairstyle from this morning.

“Next year,” she suggested.

“No, now,” I disagreed.

“Now?”

I lifted her skirt again. “Did I tell you how much I like this skirt?”

“No,” she breathed.

“I do,” I said. “Easy access. Plus…”I trailed off when I found out that she had leggings underneath the skirt.

“Not so easy when I actually wear the pants I’d planned on putting under them.” She giggled. “I left them off this morning when I came to give you the cupcake. Just in case.”

I grinned, holding her skirt high with one hand and tugging the leggings down the length of her body with the other.

She stepped out of the leggings, which just so happened to take her panties with them, and kicked them off to the side.

My hands met the warm flesh of her thighs as I smoothed my hands up to her waist, letting the skirt drop from my hold.

“That’s better.”

She leaned in, her lips only inches from mine, and said, “What would you call what we’re doing, Hux?”

“You mean, a relationship?” I asked. “Because that’s what it is. A relationship.”

“We went from never talking—at least on your end—to a relationship in a blink and a half. Usually there’s some talking that happens beforehand.”

“We talked.”

“About the show that we were watching,” she countered.

I swung her around and into my arms. “Why does there have to be a rule on what you have to talk about, say, or do? I like your company. You like mine. And we’re both in agreement that my mom is a douchebag. I’ve been watching you for months.” Try years. “And I like what I saw. Maybe I was just waiting to grow a pair.”

“You’re the most confident man I’ve ever seen.” She leveled a look at me. “You were a playboy before I came around.”

I shrugged. “Were being the operative word.”