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“Told you.” I reach my hand in to snatch a little piece of chicken.

He playfully swats at me with his chopsticks, but he’s not fast enough. And the sweet and spicy flavor of the chicken hits my tongue. “Mmm-hmm.”

I point my saucy finger at him, and he reaches forward, sucking it into his mouth, licking it clean.

We both freeze because the action felt like the most natural thing in the world, but our reactions… are not knowing how to react.

“Napkins.”

“Towel.”

We blurt at the same time. I jump up, needing a minute to cool off. “I’ll grab us a couple hand towels from the kitchen.”

Those little wooden sticks are the only thing standing between me and dinner… that and my suddenly insatiable hunger for Beau.

I went for months at a time without sex before him. Now, I can’t even make it a damn week.

I return, tossing him a towel. “Okay, chopstick master, show me your ways.”

“It’s simple.”

“I’m telling you, Emma has tried to teach me so many times, but I just end up wearing my dinner and embarrassing myself.”

“Well, I’m not Emma, and it’s only us here.” He reaches for the towel and lays it over my lap. “And this will protect your cute little dress.”

He thinks my dress is cute?

Why does being near him make me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush?

“I wasn’t kidding when I said patience.” I flash him a smile. Being with him is so easy.

“Okay.” He grabs his sticks. “Now that everything is in place, use your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to grasp the second chopstick a bit more tightly.”

“Like this?” I mimic his movements.

“Yes! Exactly! Now, using your index and middle fingers, try to move the top chopstick up and down.”

“It’s moving!” I glance up and see Beau leaning back against the couch with a huge, satisfied grin plastered on his handsome face.

“Now, how do I get the food to stay?” I nod toward the sticks.

“Keep your hand loose, the chopstick steady, and once you’ve got a good grip, dip, grab, pinch, lift, and bite,” Beau says, as if this isn’t a big deal.

I slowly lower the wooden sticks into the carton.

“Now, try and pick it up,” Beau cheers me on. Opening and closing a few times, I fumble with a piece of chicken and finally manage to balance a piece and slowly raise it to my mouth.

I’m holding my breath like a kid working a claw machine, desperate for a prize.

“You’ve got this,” Beau whispers as I finally get close enough and pop the chicken into my mouth.

“I did it,” I try to say while chewing.

“You did.” He picks up a carton of rice and takes several bites, his eyes never leaving mine.

“But I can also do this.” I jab another piece with the pointy end and stuff it in my mouth.

“No, not the jab!” he laughs, spilling the rice he had halfway to his own mouth before sitting down the container to clean up.