Page 33 of Melt for You (Slow Burn 2)
“You’re welcome.”
“Too bad it’s barmy. But I’m interested in hearin’ more about these ‘bulges’ you speak of. Are there any in particular that’re your favorites?”
Hooking a thumb into the waistband of his kilt, he sends me an innocent smile that’s like sandpaper scoured over my nerve endings.
“I bet it’s even more aggravating to you that the chubby girl is the one who’s not all hot and bothered by your flagrant machismo, right?”
There goes his smile, disappearing faster than a bowl of chocolate Häagen-Dazs down my throat. He leans toward me with a low growl.
“Tear yourself down in front of me again, woman, and I’ll take you over my knee and make you wish you hadn’t.”
We stare at each other while the clock ticks on the kitchen wall and Mr. Bingley makes a meal of his hind paw, going at it like I go at a rack of ribs.
/> “Why’re your lips twitchin’?” Cam narrows his eyes at me.
“Because I’m trying to decide if that’s sweet, sexist, or so ridiculous I should laugh.”
Cam’s face clears like the sun breaking through thunderclouds. He leans back into his chair and grins. “That’s easy, lass. It’s sweet.”
Is this guy for real? “Question. Purely for curiosity’s sake.”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever actually taken a woman over your knee as punishment?”
When his grin turns wicked, I hold up a hand. “Nope. Never mind. I don’t want to know.” A sudden spike of pain lances through my skull, and I wince, pressing my fingers to my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ugh. Headache.”
Cam’s brow wrinkles. “I know you think I’m irritatin’, but causin’ an actual headache is on a whole other level.”
“It’s not you. I mean it is you, but it’s mainly because I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Cam thunders, “Why the bloody hell not?”
I wince. “Oh, thanks for that. Shouting is great for headaches.”
“Don’t avoid the question!”
When I sigh heavily and rub my temple, Cam says darkly, “This better not have anythin’ to do with pretty boy and the office holiday party.”
Okay, so he’s smart . . . ish. But he’s also on my last nerve, and I know if I admit I’m starving myself to lose weight, he’ll have all kinds of opinions on the subject, so I decide to tell a teensy white lie.
I inspect a crack on the wall over his left shoulder. “My stomach has just been a little upset.”
After a short pause, Cam sighs. “You lie for shit, woman.”
He pronounces shit like shyte. It’s kind of adorable, but I hate him, so it’s not. “What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Student of humanity, remember?”
I resist the urge to stick out my tongue and simply stare at him instead.
“Okay, your face gets all scrunched up and your whole body does this cringy, foldin’-in-on-itself thing. You might as well be wearin’ a sign on your forehead.”
“That is inconvenient.”
