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My focus lowers to follow his and see what he’s using as a diversion tactic. The groceries I brought home from work are clutched in my grip. This man has the power to make me forget what I’m doing while I’m still doing it.
I snag the yogurt to put in the fridge and set the rest by the pantry. “Quit distracting me.”
“Same goes for you.” Chance resumes stirring the contents in the simmering pan. “It’s ready. Can you get two bowls out please?”
My feet remain firmly planted on the linoleum floor. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, but we can’t let this chicken curry go to waste.”
Saliva pools on my tongue. It’s a favorite of mine. He’s playing dirty.
But my principles are at stake. “You can take it with you. I’ll get you a container.”
“You don’t want to try it? I worked really hard to perfect the recipe.” The pout in his voice attempts to wiggle under my defenses.
“Chance,” I sigh. “What you’re doing isn’t okay. I specifically said don’t act like we’re in a relationship. You agreed to no funny business.”
“It’s just dinner, Gem. This is a very casual thing for friends with benefits to do.”
My head is spinning. “You stole my key, made a copy, and granted yourself permission to enter my apartment. That’s super illegal.”
His gaze finds mine, latching on like a tether. “My devotion to you doesn’t have limits.”
That should probably scare me, but it has the opposite effect. Heat gathers between my hips and I fight the instinct to squirm. Gosh, what’s wrong with me? It has to be the memorable impression from our kisses that’s skewing my reaction.
“I could have you arrested.”
Smug confidence drips from his tone when he says, “But you won’t.”
My palm tingles with the sudden urge to spank him. He’s acting disobedient, but I’m condoning it. Questionable—or unhinged—as it may seem, I’m beginning to realize I like his naughty streak.
This is new for me. My handful of past experiences were very vanilla. I haven’t explored what really turns me on beyond the basics. Chance might be treading into kinky territory for me and I’m just acknowledging it. That could be something worth exploring.
But I can’t just let him get away with defiance.
“You’re very bad at following directions.” There’s not an ounce of sternness in my breathy tone.
His expression smolders. “Are you going to punish me?”
My cheeks burn. “Would you like me to?”
“Very much so.”
Desire like I’ve never felt crashes over me in a scorching inferno. An image of Chance on his knees, begging to come, burns into my brain. It’s enticing enough to melt whatever strands of resistance I’m clinging onto. My composure goes right along with it.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. This conversation has taken an unexpected turn. I’m not sure where to steer it from here.
“You’ve, uh… given me a lot to consider.”
“Still want me to leave?”
“You should.” Which almost hurts to say.
His eyes blaze into liquid flames. “That didn’t answer my question.”
The molten lust pulsing through me cranks up another ten degrees. “If I excuse this behavior, people will think I’m insane.”
“People can think whatever they want. I don’t give a fuck. My only priority is making you happy and fulfilling your needs. Does this behavior upset you?” His emphasis on those two words changes the meaning.
