Page 94 of Touch Me

Although Jen's insistence that sensations are enhanced when it's slippery and unobstructed did pique my curiosity. I know you aren't supposed to partake in any activities right after being waxed to prevent a follicle infection, so I’m sort of glad it didn’t happen. I don’t know if I can stop myself if Jace tackles me and throws me in the shower.

It’s wishful thinking that one night of touching is going to magically help him, but I can hope it was enough to make him want to keep trying. Even if it isn’t slamming me up against the steamy tiles in the shower while he rails the shit out of me.

Damn, that sounds good.

Will he ever be able to be that carefree? That overcome with lust that he can’t control himself and has to have me right here, right now? More importantly, can I live with the fact that he may never be that person? He did grab my hair and order me into the bathroom, though. I liked that a whole helluva lot.

Controlling Jace is hot as fuck.

So he’s in there, I just have to draw him out without scaring him off.

I drop my purse and bag on the entry table. Voices float out from the kitchen. I take a step into the living room and around the couch when a big gray blur comes bounding up the stairs knocking me back into the couch.

“Henry! Hi, buddy.” I squish his face and rub his ears while trying to dodge licks straight to the mouth.

“Henry, get off. Give her some room.” I look up to see Jace in an apron holding a bundle of scallions.

“Hi. Are you cooking?”

“Trying to make stir fry. I’ve watched you do this at least a dozen times, but I feel like I’m messing it up.” Jace stares at the bunch of onions in his hand like they personally offended him.

He looks so sweet and innocent, standing there in an apron. Like a kid trying to make his mom breakfast for Mother’s Day. I have to hold back a giggle while my heart does a little flip flop in my chest.

“I’ll go get changed and meet you in the kitchen. I’m sure you’re doing fine.” He was serious when he said he would pay attention when I was cooking.

If he wasn’t working or in the gym when I started dinner, he was in the kitchen. Watching, helping, studying. He knows exactly what to do, he just doesn't know he knows. That just gave me an idea.

I change quickly into yoga pants and aWham!t-shirt and slowly saunter into the kitchen. I drag my hand across the island as I approach, head cocked and looking up through my lashes at Jace.

“What are you doing?” Jace freezes, knife in mid-air—I hope that’s curiosity on his face and not him planning an escape route.

“Wanna play a game?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What kind of game?”

“A cooking game show, I guess.” I round the island and take a step toward him. “I ask you what you do next, and if you guess right, you get a prize.”

He lowers the knife and takes a step closer to me. “What kind of prize?”

“What do you want? A kiss? Or I can take off a piece of clothing if you’re right, you take off a piece of clothing if you’re wrong.”

“Strip Stir Fry?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I laugh.

“I like it.”

“Okay, what have you done so far?”

“Well, I got all the ingredients out, I think.” He examines the island carefully with all his ingredients laid out. “And I got the pans out.” He points to the stove with the saucepan for rice and the wok for the stir fry.

“Everything looks good so far.”

He stares at me, waiting.

“Oh no, not yet. You have to get a question right first before I strip.”

“Changing the rules already, I see.” He tsks.

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