I perk up at this. “How will you punish me if I don’t?”
“No orgasm for you tonight.”
“The joke’s on you, buddy. I’m perfectly capable of giving one to myself.”
I meant this as a joke, but the air between us changes in an instant. When he speaks next, his voice is low and husky. “I need you to stop any dirty words coming from that pretty mouth of yours, or we won’t have dinner at all.”
I debate pushing him over the edge for a split second, but my rumbling stomach wins. Still, I can turn this cooking session into PG-rated territory in lots of ways. I brainstorm a few options as Eric brings a bottle of red wine and pours me one glass.
“Fine, under one condition.”
“We’re bargaining now?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.
“Yes, we are, and we established I have the upper hand.” I cock an eyebrow, swiping my tongue over my lower lip, and Eric’s eyes darken with lust. I don’t know what’s gotten in to me, but I feel greedy and feisty, and I want all of him right now.
“Pun intended?” he asks, and I take immense pleasure in the way his voice wavers.
“All the way.”
“Fine. What is your condition?”
“Lose the pants,” I instruct.
“You want me to cook naked?” he asks.
“Nah, you can keep the shirt.” I grin devilishly. “I’m interested in your booty.”
“My torso feels discriminated against right now,” he says, feigning offense.
“It’ll get over it. Now, strip.”
“Only if you do,” he replies.
“No can do. If I’m naked, we’ll end up starving.”
“You have little faith in me, Pippa Bennett.”
“You have proven to have a weakness for flesh.” My pulse leaps as I wait for his response.
“Only because you’re so fucking irresistible.”
My breath catches as he advances toward me and places his hands on either side of me, trapping me between him and the wall, kissing me feverishly, turning me into a heavy-breathing mess when he lets go of me. “You’re not getting a peekaboo at my ass. I’ll save that for the bedroom.” Seeing me pout, he adds, “You know, I’m becoming suspicious that you’re only using me for my body.”
“You’re so full of yourself. Unbelievable.”
“You mean I shouldn’t pride myself on rock-hard abs, an ass you can’t take your eyes off even when I’m dressed, and a big cock?”
I form an O with my mouth. “You’re shameless.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I add, “But I can’t contradict you.”
He goes back to chopping ingredients, and watching him is like foreplay.
“You’re cooking Italian food,” I exclaim.
“Yeah. Bruschetta for starters, then spaghetti arrabiata for the main course.”
Right. Hearing him talk about food is a freaking turn-on. I hop on the counter, observing him. Once everything’s cooking, I decide it’s confession time.
“I had my lawyer set up a meeting with Terence next week,” I say. “On Tuesday.”