Page 42 of Prince Charmless
I freeze.
“I mean, that’s what Tinder is for, right? I’ve never ventured.”
“Uh, I wasn’t planning on it. I just thought he looked nice.”
Taylor hums in the most judgmental way one can hum. Again, cryptic and weird.
After a while, he flips the pancake using a spatula, though I’m kind of disappointed he didn’t flip it in the air. Eventually, I’m sitting at the kitchen island with a plate in front of me. The pancake looks warm, buttery, and delicious. Pancakes are the best. My mom used to make them when I was sick as a kid. Even the smell takes me back. I take a bite of Taylor’s, and of course, they taste incredible. Why wouldn’t they?
I point my fork at the plate. “This is so fucking good,” I say with my mouth full.
Taylor busies himself with dishes. He hides his smile well, but I can see he’s blushing.
Doesn’t he have someone to do dishes for him?
After I finish, I get up to put my plate in the sink, but Taylor turns around, takes it out of my hand, and sets it back on the counter behind me. He leaves his arm to linger by my waist.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asks very close to me.
“If I’m coming back on the project?”
Both of his hands are on the island now, caging me with his arms. “So did I convince you?”
I rest silent. How could I not? I already told Julien I was back on the project before I got here, but I don’t want to admit to Taylor or myself that I came over just for funsies.
God, hecharmedme. I’m weak!
Taylor uses the tip of his middle finger to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I can hear my breathing. I can hear his.
“What are you doing?”
He traces the neckline of my shirt with his thumb. “Why did you undo the top button of your blouse?” he asks, gently pulling the fabric and revealing more of my chest. When I look down, he immediately nudges my chin back up to look me in the eyes. “Hm?”
I gulp. “I was, uh, hot.”
“You were, uh, hot?” Taylor’s smirk turns into a pout. “Do you want me to turn down the temperature?” he asks like I’m a child. “I can do it from my phone, too. This house might look old, but it’s very technologically advanced.”
I need to get better at lying.
His hands settle low on my waist. “I was just wondering, Melina,” he says, pressing up against me lightly, lips so close. “You know, if you’re not too hot,” he continues, our noses practically touching, our foreheadsactuallytouching, his thigh in between my legs—wait, when did that happen?
You should kiss him.
Yes. I should kiss him. I lean in to go for it, but he instantly tilts his head to the side.
“If I could get an ETA on the website?” he whispers into my ear.
What?
He leans back, and I let out the breath I was apparently holding.
“I was thinking in the top corner we could have a counter that says, ‘How many kiddos Taylor has saved?’” He redoes my top button and boops my nose with his finger. “You can do that, right?”
I look down at his brown leather shoes, then close my eyes. What the hell was my cave woman brain thinking? It only took him five seconds to seduce me. Why do I turn into complete mush whenever he touches me? Am I really that attracted to him? Or worse, does he know I’m really that attracted to him?
“Why did you make me dinner?” I ask. If Taylor knew I was already back on the project, what was the point of all this?
He shrugs. “I like doing things in threes. Just next time, when we negotiate, leave my brother out of it.”
