Page 21 of The Gruff Loner’s Bargain

Next, we try the Italian Cream Cake, which is tasty, but we agree it’s not the one for us. Too many nuts. I’m hit with a moment where I recognize how real this feels. Sitting next to her tasting cake, my mama’s ring on her finger.

She sees me looking at it and gives me a questioning glance.

“It looks good on you,” I say.

“It’s a gorgeous ring. I imagine it would look good on anyone.”

I don’t correct her, but I know she’s wrong. Not any other woman could do my mama’s ring justice like she does.

“Salted caramel, next?” she asks.

“Saving the chocolate for last?”

“Of course.” She takes a tiny bite of the cake and chews thoughtfully. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No, I’ve never masturbated with a hot tub jet,” I say.

She huffs out a laugh. “I’ve watched you with other people. When we’re in a room and others are around where they can hear us. I can also see how exhausting it is for you to be on all the time. So why do you bother?”

Her question surprises me but doesn’t offend. “The easy answer is that not all of us can get by with being so cranky.” I tweak her on the chin.

“Har-har. I mean if it’s too personal or whatever, you don’t have to answer. I just know that someone as hot as you could get away with behaving any way you want.”

“Hot enough, yes, but not smart enough.”

She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “You are a lot of things, Landry Hendricks, but stupid is not one of them.”

“No, I’m not stupid. But I learned pretty quickly that I could compensate for some of my shortcomings at school if I was charming and gregarious enough.”

She stares at me, not prodding, just looking at me. Seeing me.

“I was in middle school before I was officially diagnosed with severe dyslexia and ADHD.”

She makes no comment, doesn’t ask further questions, doesn’t make a big deal about it. Her brown eyes are soft and full of warmth.

I shrug. “Made learning challenging. But by then, I liked being the guy who made people laugh. Who put them at ease.”

“You’re exceptional at both of those,” she says. “Though I can’t imagine going that long without a diagnosis was easy.”

I swallow hard and shake my head.

“And you’re stupid hot. Doesn’t seem quite fair to the rest of us.”

“You’re stupid hot too, Manhattan. Don’t ever think differently.”

“Last one,” she says, holding up the little square of chocolate cake.

“This one looks so good, that if it’s not yummy, I might actually cry,” I say.

She laughs. “Open,” she says. Then she puts the chocolate up against my lips.

I open, using my tongue to sweep the piece into my mouth. It’s rich and velvety and fudgy and everything a chocolate cake should be. There’s frosting smeared onto her fingertips, so I grab her hand and bring it back to my mouth. Then I lick her fingers clean.

She watches every movement of my tongue as if I’m hypnotizing her.

I feed her her bit of cake and the moaning sound she makes causes a level four erection emergency. I tug at the front of my jeans to try to give myself some more room.

When she sees me do this, her brow cocks.