He looked up like I’d finally piqued his interest enough to tear him away from whatever he was doing on his computer. “You don’t like the way itfeelsin your mouth?”
“Exactly.” I returned the milk to the fridge.
“I hope you don’t mind the way it feels coming from other people’s mouths because I’m never sayingJiminy cricketinstead of Jesus christ. And wait until you hear how often we all sayfuck.”
And okay, I didn’t like the way swearing felt in my mouth, but I’d be a liar if I said hearing Dane say the word “fuck” didn’t do all kinds of crazy things to my body.
Instead of being turned off, my nipples got hard, and my pussy throbbed the way it did when I went too long without a good orgasm. Except I’d given myself an orgasm in the shower a couple of hours before so I should be good for a while at least.
But somehow when Dane said “fuck” it didn’t make me think of foul-mouthed guys who liked to show off — it made me think about rumpled sheets and naked bodies and soft moans.
It made me think of, well,fucking.
Fucking Dane, to be exact.
I busied myself dunking a cookie into the milk. “You can say whatever you want.”
When the cookie was perfect — soft but not so soft that it would fall into the milk — I put it in my mouth. I looked up, expecting Dane to be busy with his computer, but he was staring at me instead, his gaze locked on my mouth as I licked a stray piece of cookie from my lips.
Was it my imagination that I could have cut the sexual tension with a butter knife? I didn’t think so, which was super awkward given the fact that Dane was obviously a major dick.
And see? That made me blush too, because now I was thinking about Dane’s dick.
I was in real trouble here.
“You’re up late too.” It was the most benign thing I could think of to say, better than saying,Actually I’m fine if you say the word fuck as long as you say it while you’re fucking me.“Are you working?”
He nodded, then pulled his gaze from mine to focus on the computer. “I like to do the accounting at night when Beck isn’t yammering in the kitchen and Noah isn’t kicking up a racket outside with the lawn mower or the weed whacker or one of his other obnoxiously loud tools.”
“Sorry I interrupted your work.”And super sorry I’m going to have to get myself off again before I go to sleep.
He typed furiously on his computer. “It’s fine.”
His tone was grudging, and I bit my bottom lip, debating the merit of calling him on it.
Fudge it. I wasn’t a little girl. I had a real job in the real world. And yeah, it wasn’t like I was a CEO or something, but my position as a project coordinator for an urban planning nonprofit meant plenty of confrontation with politicians and bureaucrats.
I could handle Dane whatever-his-last-name-was.
“Do you have a problem with me being here?”
He stopped typing and looked up to meet my gaze, his gray eyes cold. “I have a problem with the way you abandoned Evelyn. I have a problem with the fact that I’ve been here for three years and, as far as I know, you never once so much as dropped her a call or an email or even a fucking birthday card.”
I felt like I’d been slapped, and it was at least in part because he wasn’t wrong.
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “You’re right.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, and he leaned back to fold his arms over his muscular chest. “So why didn’t you? Call? Email? Anything. And don’t give me that shit about being a little girl.”
I thought about trying to explain. How staying busy was the way I coped with my dad’s replacement family, with my mom’s crowded life. With feeling like an afterthought.
With being lonely even though I lived in one of the biggest cities in the world.
Or maybe because of it.
But what was the point? None of it was an excuse. I may have been lonely, but Aunt Evelyn had beenright here, wanting to have a relationship with me, and I’d been too selfish and preoccupied to call or visit.
And Dane was a complete stranger, one who’d already made up his mind about me. Why would I spill my guts to him?