Page 23 of Dancing With Doubt

“Um, no. Also, I’m fairly certain you’d padlock my dick if I even tried.”

“You never know.” She was the one going for smug nonchalance this time but on her, it was way hotter than it was on him. “I might like to watch.”

“I seriously doubt that.” He spit out, looking at her. He wasn’t so sure she was kidding but wasn’t sure he was ready for her answer, so he didn’t push for one.

“I might.” She repeated with a grin. “I’m never going to be totally vanilla you know?”

“I fucking hope not.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek before he spoke again. “I would miss that side of you if you woke up one day completely tame. I’d hate seeing you demand nothing more than the missionary position. Especially after the way you moved your ass against me this morning.”

He lost himself in the memory of her pressed up against his bedroom door, taking every one of his strokes with a quiet gasp that brought his dick to life all over again just thinking about it. He had to pause his slicing to let that problem go away before he could start again.

“That was fun, but it’s hardly kinky.” She groused at him in mock disapproval.

“There were people in the house who would not have approved. Totally different from that party you threw here.” He reminded her of the housewarming party that she’d thrown for him.

“Still not kinky.” She shook her head and started to stir the mixture she’d put on top of the crescent rolls then fold up to bake in the oven. “Now, if you’d taken me to the room without any of them noticing and tied me to the wall, that would have been kinky.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman, there’s still nobody home.” He shook the keys to the door to let her know he had them.

“Oh, promises, promises.” She fluttered her eyelashes with a smirk that ruined the innocent look.

“Bitch.” He growled at her, but it only made her grin wider.

“I know. Do you need oil for that?” She pointed but it didn’t look like she was pointing at the bowl he was dropping the vegetables into. It looked like she was pointing at something below his waist.

“What?” He asked, wondering where she was going with her question.

“The casserole? Have you added oil yet?” She smirked again, walked up to him, and put her index finger on his bottom lip. “Or, I might have been asking if you want me to oil up your dick so we can figure out where else you can put it? Choice is yours.”

“Tease. I’m making dinner for all those people out there now that you made that decision and you know it. But later we’re going to find out a lot more about that last part. I promise.” And he meant it.