Page 20 of Dirty Pool

That was enough of that.

She was wet again.

Grand.

“I am,” Gabbie said. “Type two.”

Michel’s brow dipped for a second, and he gave her a look. “Developed later, then?”

“Around sixteen, almost seventeen when they diagnosed me with type two. I was born insulin resistant, so I was used to having to manage my diet and whatnot, anyway. Something changed—”

“Hormones, life,” Michel interjected.

Gabbie laughed. “Yeah, something. And I had a sudden weight gain …” She trailed off, quite aware of the way Michel’s gaze traveled down her body and then slowly came back up to her face. The intensity of his stare was enough to make her shiver right there on the spot, but the idea that he might be disgusted at the thought of her a little heavier made her stomach twist painfully. “I know, hard to tell, right? Thirty pounds added onto this doesn’t exactly sit well.”

“Actually, I was thinking you probably looked good like that, too, and it was a shame I missed out.”

Heat bloomed in her stomach.

She was sure it colored her cheeks, too.

“Charmer,” she replied.

Michel winked. “I state truths.”

“Mmhmm.”

He crossed the kitchen, and picked up an apple slice on the table as he passed. It wasn’t until he was standing right in front of her, and popping that piece of fruit in his mouth that she looked up to meet his gaze again. He looked far too good chewing on that fruit and looking at her like he would rather it be a part of her that he had in his mouth.

Goddamn.

“I stayed for breakfast,” he murmured.

“It’s not done yet.”

“Is it going to be good?”

“I have to eat a lot, and it has to be healthy things, so I make sure everything that goes into my body is an experience. You’re the lucky lad that’s going to get to share that with me this morning.”

Michel grinned lazily, his thumb coming up to press against the seam of her lips. She heard his silent question to open up, so she did just that. He popped just the tip of his apple-flavored thumb in her mouth, and she sucked on the tip, letting her teeth drag along the pad of his skin before he pulled it out and dragged it down her chin.

“How long?” he asked.

Gabbie blinked. “For what?”

“The food.”

Heat curled in her belly.

Anticipation.

That look in his eye, she knew it.

It was the same one from last night.

“About five more minutes for the bit in the oven,” she whispered.

“Enough to see what I can do with my hand, then.”