Page 92 of The Situation
“Did I know that?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I haven’t told you, but you always have a way of knowing shit.” I shrug. “That experience helps me in putting together the team for the Raptors. We had a great team in Chicago, and I learned a lot about what makes a group effective and what doesn’t.”
“Makes sense.”
He opens a cabinet, which happens to be the fridge, and pulls out a plate. He places it on the island, grinning.
A blueberry pie—not as pretty or perfect as the one from Ruma, but it looks delicious nonetheless, and shines from a pale pink pie plate.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask, laughing.
“Someone stole a whole pie from me, so I had to make one myself.”
I grin. “Youmade that?”
“I sure did.”
“Tate.”
“What?” He beams proudly. “Flour, salt, sugar, very cold and unsalted butter, and ice water. That’s it. Pretty simple.”
My mouth hangs agape.
“Mimi taught me,” he says. “Wednesday is our date night, so I was seeing her right before I saw you.” He sighs dramatically. “It’s hard keeping up with two women.”
“And you made that pie?”
“You don’t believe me?” He demonstrates how he crimps the edges. “We make something sweet every week, and she sends most of it home with me. That’s probably why I haven’t been posting shirtless selfies much anymore. I’m starting to pack on the pounds.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. “Stop it.”
“Mimi sends me home with pie. You stole my pie.”
“Mimi sends you home with pie,” I say, feathering my lips over his. “I sent you home with …me.”
He takes my hand and puts it on his cock.
“You never fail to impress,” I say, my nipples hardening.
“Now that I have you here, I might just keep you.”
Thoughts of him tying me up come roaring back through my brain. “I might go along with that, depending on the circumstances.”
He pulls back, surprised.
“I was kidding,” I say, smacking his chest with the hand that isn’t massaging his balls through his pants.
“I’m not.” He drags his tongue along my bottom lip. “I’m all in.”
“You can’t be all in,” I say, pulling back just before he nips my jaw. “We just met.”
“That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”
“What’s unfortunate?” I gasp a breath as he sucks gently on the spot my shoulder meets my neck.
“That we just met.”
“If it were too much earlier than now, you would’ve been underage.”
