Page 74 of Worth Every Moment
“Per meal.” She gestures to the chopping board, where she’s made two piles of halved cherry tomatoes. “These are yours, and these are mine.”
I wait for her to laugh because she surely can’t be fucking serious. I start filtering my memories for times I’ve eaten with her and come up short. Never in a restaurant. But at drinks parties… did she eat the canapes? Surely when we had snacks on the sofa, she ate them.Wait… was it just me that ate them? Did she actually eat them?I rifle through more memories, sure I’ve seen her lick her fingers. My dick twitches.Definitely seen her lick her fingers.
“Who said you’re allowed that many?” I ask.
“My mother.”
“She makes the rules?”
“All the rules.”
Now, that’s some fucked up shit I didn’t know. “What else is on the list?”
She lays down the knife and places both hands flat on the counter, defiance glimmering in her gaze. “No chocolate. No dairy. No milk in my tea. No artificial sugar. No sugar at all really. No crisps. No snacks. No alcohol.” Her chest puffs up with a lengthy inhalation. “And no Seb Hawkston.”
“Ah. So I’m the seventh tomato?”
Her response comes late and quiet. “Something like that.” She picks up the knife again and continues to cut, this time counting out slices of cucumber.
“I’ve seen you put milk in your tea,” I say.
She pauses to push a strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist. “I’m rebelling.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She nods at me, but it’s a lengthy nod, all the way up and down, as if to say, ‘You, over there. You’re my rebellion’.
I really fucking wish I was.
My heart bangs against my ribs. Sometimes, it feels like she’s giving me an opening, offering me something more, and I don’t know whether I’m imagining it or if it’s really there and she’s waiting for me to grab it with both hands.
I’ve done a good job of ignoring it, siphoning off those lingering looks and the sparks that I’m starting to suspect aren’t one-sided. But when it comes down to it, I have no idea if Erica feels anywhere near what I feel. Maybe this is just business for her. The PR. The movie. The career. And so far, it’s working. The articles in the press and on social media are shifting. And the fans want her to play Vanessa inTaming the Beast. They’re clamoring for it.
She keeps chopping, and something inside me snaps. Ineedto push this. I need something from her that’s more than pleasantries. I shift off the bar stool, coming to stand next to her. I pick a cherry tomato from the paper bag, plucking it right off the vine.
She watches me do it, not moving as I do, the knife hovering over the board. I’m standing far too close. She knows it. I know it. Heat prickles all over me as she turns to me. “What?”
I lean my hip against the counter and raise the tomato so it’s at her eye-line, rolling it between my thumb and index finger. Dark eyes focus on the tomato, then me, and back again like she’s calculating something. “What?” she says again, although I know she knows exactlywhat.
I nod at her mouth. “The seventh tomato.”
“What about it?”
The prickling sensation in my body intensifies in my groin. Mydick. “I want to see you eat it.”
She stares at the tomato for a little too long before she says, “You want to put that in my mouth?”
“Yes. And then I want you to swallow.”
Tension ignites, sending the whole place up in burning flames. Erica’s throat bobs as though she’s actually swallowing.
“Nuh-uh.” It comes out all breathy.
“Come on, Lefroy.” The command is a deep rasp. “This is what rebellion tastes like.”
Her breaths come in gentle pants that I can hear over my own breathing. “I’m not hungry,” she whispers, but everything else tells me she is; her body tilting towards me; her pupils blown wide; her pink lips slightly parted.
“Scared?” I ask.
