Page 84 of Drop Shot
Her eyes narrow on me. “It’s really annoying that you said that with a perfect French accent.”
I cross my arms over my chest with a smug expression. “I can’t help it if I’m perfect.”
“Okay.” She holds up a hand, eyes rolling. “Slow down. You’re far from perfect.”
I press a hand to my chest. “That hurts.”
Her eyes dance with humor. “With the size of your ego I’m sure you’ll recover just fine.”
I need to watch myself. The back and forth, banter between us is too fun, too easy. I have to remind myself that this is a job to Whimsy. When it’s over, it wouldn’t look right for her to be my assistant again. Besides, with what she’s being paid she might just want to take a break to figure out what she wants next in life. But chances are I’ll never see her again and I really don’t want to dwell on why that bothers me so much.
“Do you want it now?” she asks, setting the baked good aside for me.
“Nah, and I was only kidding. I won’t take your precious pastries.”
She snorts. “Well, I lied. I know this one is your favorite so I got it for you.”
“You were thinking of me?” Fuck, why does that make me ridiculously happy?
A blush stains her cheeks. “I’ve been your assistant for years. I know you well.”
“Yeah, but you were thinking of me,” I reiterate.
With a sigh, she plucks a macaron out of the box and plops on the couch. “Only because you’re so annoying.”
“Mhm,” I hum, not buying what she’s selling one bit. She bites into the macaron andmoans. Her fingers quickly brush the crumbs from her lips. “That good?” I ask in a choked voice.
“So good,” she replies. “You want a bite?”
I should say no, let her enjoy her sweet treat, but I can’t help but want a taste too.
“Yeah, I do.” I sit down beside her, and she offers me the macaron, but instead of taking it from her, I lean in and take a bite. My lips graze her fingers, and I watch as her eyes dilate.
I pull away but her eyes continue to watch the movement of my mouth as I chew.
“Delicious,” I say.
I watch the motion of her throat as she swallows. It surprises me when she reaches out and grazes her thumb over my lip. She pulls it away and sucks the crumb into her mouth.
Her eyes widen in shock at her own actions. “Oh my God,” she blurts. “I’m so sorry. That was completely out of line. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Her hands flutter around her sides like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them. I wrap my own hands around them to hold her steady.
“I didn’t stop you, did I?”
“Well, n-no,” she stutters.
“So, then why are you apologizing?” I ask, staring into her eyes. The blue hue swirls with emotions I know she’s too scared to voice.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Don’t ever apologize for touching me, Whim.” I let go of her hands and cup her cheek. The way she instantly relaxes into my touch fills me with a feeling of pride. She might not realize it but shetrustsme.
“No?”
“No,” I reiterate. “In fact,” I grin. “Touch me any time you want.”
She laughs and her gaze drops from mine to her lap, her shoulders loosening as she relaxes. “Anytime, huh?” Her eyes move back to mine.
