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He lowered his chin.
“I’ve never kissed a guy with a beard. It was…different.”
He chuffed dismissively. “Sounds like a disaster.”
I snorted. “It wasn’t at all. I actually expected to feel like I was doing something wrong, which is ridiculous. I was pleasantly surprised to find I didn’t feel guilty in the least.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“No, I know I don’t.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I might see him again. Some friends of his are going to see a band play on Friday night. He asked me to go out with them.”
The droll look he gave me said he was totally unimpressed. “He should be taking you out to dinner somewhere nice, where reservations are required. It’s too soon to just ‘hang out’ with his goonie friends.”
I burst out laughing. “You sound so frigging old, I can’t even believe it. Is this what happens when you turn thirty? You turn into some uptight elitist?”
“I’ve never changed, Elise.”
I pressed my lips together, amused. “So, you admit to always being uptight?”
He jabbed his chopsticks at me. “I’m beginning to think it was better when you were a stone-cold bitch. No insults flying my way.”
I leaned forward, grabbing his hand. “Come on, Westie. You don’t mean that.”
He flipped our hands over so his were on top. “No, I don’t mean it at all.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Jesus, the virgin blood is doing you well. Your skin is like brand new, out of the package. So soft.”
“One good thing my mother taught me was to always moisturize.” I dragged my index finger down the side of his thumb. “Your hands are rough. If they were chopped off and found in a ditch two states away, no one would believe they could belong to you. These aren’t the hands of a man who works at his computer all day.”
His sexy lips were parted, and probably not from desire. “That was macabre. Should I be worried for the safety of my hands?”
My teeth dug into my bottom lip. Teasing Weston had always been so fun. He was so serious but never failed to play along with me.
“Oh, so you’re selfish?”
His eyes flared. “How’s that?”
“When I told you about the virgins, you never batted an eye. But one mention of chopping off your hands and you’re calling the police.”
“I need my fucking hands, Elise.” He glared at me likeIwas the nut when he was the one practically shouting about his hands.
“The virgins need their blood, Westie!”
He clucked his tongue. “You’ve been spending too much time with Miles. He’s the only one who calls me that.”
“I don’t know why. It’s catchy.”
He gave me another long, considering look. “Do you see him outside the office?”
“Who? Miles?”
One brief nod. He still hadn’t let go of my hand.
“No. I only see him at work. But he’s decided he and I should have been friends back in school, and he missed the opportunity, so he’s making up for lost time by perching his ass on my desk every day.”
His mouth pulled down. “I’ll tell him to stop.”
“Why? He’s annoying, but he usually goes away when I tell him to.” After the fifth or sixth time.
“Has he been hugging you?”
