Page 117 of Embody

“Depends on what you veto,” he winks.

“I’m listening,” I strum it out slowly.

“First, we take that bath of yours,together.” His dark brows arch mischievously, waiting for my refusal.

“Next?” is all he gets. I’m a virgin, not a nun.

“We get to pick what the other sleeps in.” I don’t think he realizes that his eyebrows just bounced up and down, twice.

I can only assume he’s going to choose that I sleep naked, which is fine. I’m not ashamed of my body, and he’s more than seen my breasts, gotten a pretty good look at my ass… and let’s not forget what happened at the concert or the way I sat in that chair during “Behavior Modification 101.” My pussy is no longer a mystery to him either.

I shrug, but flash a challengingly sexy grin. “What else ya got?”

“You know you have to veto right when I say it. No waiting ‘til the end to decide how to use it. Part of the risk.”

“Got it, Senator Sexonthebrain. Go on.”

“Tomorrow, you let me drive you to quit the diner and go apply at that boutique.”

“I was going to go do both of those anyway, actually.”

“Like I said, you let me take you.”

He’s silent, something very endearing about the sudden aura of nervousness around him.

“Jefferson, was that all?”

He clears his throat,his tell, and advances a step to take my hand in his, rubbing circles in my palm with his thumb. “I want to keep some stuff here. Maybe one dresser drawer, one in here, a shelf in the shower and some closet space.”

“Aren’t you forgetting your claim on the left side of the bed?” I giggle. “Seems to be your favorite.”

“Good thinking,” I’m rewarded with a modest kiss, “that too.”

“Anything else?” I go up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, letting my fingers play in his hair.

“No,” he says in awe, eyes wide with delighted surprise. “That’s it, and you didn’t use your veto.”

“My smart, handsome man,” I coo. “Nothing gets past you, does it? I’m gonna run our bath now, hope you like it hot. And take that drawer,” I point. “There may even be an unopened toothbrush to get ya started,” I smile, humming with contentment, and turn to start the water.

“I think I mistook which drawer you pointed to, baby. Could ya’ turn around and maybe fill me in here, love?” His voice—a mixture of intrigue, shock…and perhaps a lilt of happiness—tells me what I don’t want to acknowledge.

There’s no question what he found, and no chance this floor is gonna open up and swallow me. Damn.

I have to forge a steel-grip on my pulse and breathing, deliberately taking as long as blatantly possible to turn toward him, forbidding myself to tremble. As predicted, his lips are twitching to smirk, his eyes brewing with curious, but informed, delight as he holds up the blue, disc-shaped case in his hand.

Wrong drawer indeed.At least it’s not mortifyingly embarrassing or anything. Except that it so is.

I glance back, praying the bathtub’s about to overflow and cause such a new catastrophe that the current one is forgotten. No such luck. Slow fucking water flow, I should complain.

 

---