Page 97 of Against The Rules

“Crap,” I swear.

“What? Is something wrong with the salad?”

“No, no, I forgot to cook the sausage.”

She snorts, her forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “That’s okay. There’s only one sausage I’m interested in tonight.”

I bark a laugh, surprised at the joke and unsurprisingly turned on again. “Haven’t had enough yet?”

She shifts in her seat. “Well, maybe. I might need to stretch if we go again.”

“I would hate to see that,” I say, cutting a little piece of chicken. “Especially if you had to take my pants off to be able to get full range of motion. It would be just terrible.”

Savannah grins at me, chewing slowly.

“I should probably pick up all my clothes outside, huh?”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me to see your underwear all over the patio, but the pool guy might get ideas.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she says.

I dip a piece of chicken in some of my homemade sauce, and hold it out for her. “Try it.”

“Just a little, okay?”

“Are you afraid of spice?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “I’d like to think I just proved I’m not afraid of spice at all.”

“I would tell you to open up, but I’m afraid if we keep talking like this we won’t be taste-testing for the cooking competition at all.”

“Oh? What would you be tasting, then?” She flutters her eyelashes.

“Peaches.”

That makes her laugh, and I take advantage of her open mouth to put the chicken in.

“Oh, yummm.” She holds a hand over her mouth, her eyes closing in bliss before she swallows. “That’s really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, cutting a piece of her own chicken and putting the tiniest amount of sauce on it. “Although… I think I liked your sausage even better.”

I grin at her. “I’d be happy to give you another taste.” We eat in silence for a minute, though Savannah barely seems to eat anything, picking at the chicken every now and then but mostly eating her undressed salad.

“Can I ask you something?” She pushes her plate away.

“Anything,” I say, grabbing her plate and finishing her chicken for her.

“Earlier, when…” the most adorable blush spreads across her cheeks, and she tucks some hair behind her ear, “when we were, you know—”

“When I was fucking you so good that you came all over my cock?” I raise one eyebrow, giving her my patented cocky half-smile.

“Mmhmm, yep, that part.”

I snort.

“You said I didn’t need sexy lessons. You said I was already sexy. So…” Savannah doesn’t finish the question, just lets it hang in the air between us.

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