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I stared at her with that absurd fondness that was starting to feel alarming as it moved my face into the now familiar lines. “Are you absolutely positive,” I said softly, “that I can’t tattoo your name on my ass?”

As she was walking away cursing me, I called out after her, “Too soon?”

We had dinner together in the breakfast nook attached to my kitchen. This had become a habit. We took almost all our meals together. She sat on the bench seat near the window and I sat in a chair facing her. I wanted to be closer, but I loved watching every one of her expressions the most.

We were having roast chicken and vegetables that my housekeeper had left in a crockpot for us after she was done cleaning. Ro had made friends with her, and now she left us dinner at least four times a week. The Ro effect. Everything just fell in line around her. Including me, apparently. I had met the impossible word count she’d assigned me for the day.

“Word count for sexual favors,” I mused. “Not what I was expecting from you, but apparently it works.”

“Eat your food,” she told me blandly.

“If I clean my plate and finish before you, can I eat you out under the table?”

“Stop it.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Me? In the impossible Olympics, you’d get the gold, cupcake.”

I stood, came around the table, and slid next to her on the bench seat.

“What are—” she began before I kissed her.

She let me, softening almost instantly under my lips, giving way to me like we’d done it a thousand times instead of a handful. She was a natural.

While she was distracted, I inched her skirt up and started playing with her through her panties, rubbing my fingers over her clit with a light touch.

She shivered head to toe. It was delightful.

I pulled back from the kiss to speak, my lips still pressed to hers, “You’re so responsive. That’s just what I love. We’re so compatible. I want to play your body like a musical instrument. I want it to dance to my tune. I didn’t only learn to play the violin. I also became proficient at working this little bundle of nerves right here.” As I spoke I was showing her just what I meant, pushing my hand inside her panties and pinching over the swollen nub very, very softly and then rubbing it between two fingers, stroking her off with the most delicate touch.

It was utterly gratifying to watch what that did to her. I made her fall apart with breathtaking speed.

Considering her inexperience, I was rather impressed with us both.

“See?” I asked her between desperate kisses. “I know exactly what you need. And this is just my hand. I’m even better with my tongue.”

“I don’t believe you,” she was panting, kissing me, losing her mind, “nothing could be better than that.”

I pulled back to preen at her. “I told you you’d like it.” I palmed her, pushing a finger carefully inside. “You’re sopping wet,” I moaned.

Her eyes were scrunched closed in the most adorable way, her face pained as she said in a miserable voice, “That’s embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be. I love it. Nothing your body does under my care should embarrass you. Do you have any idea, could you even have a clue, how much I’ve fantasized, plotted, worked to get you like that?”

I took my finger out, sucked it clean, the taste of her, finally, and smoothed her skirt back into place. “Now, for the love of God, can we go to bed?”

“Drama queen,” she muttered as she got up and started walking.

I was so obsessed with the fact that I was following her to my bed, to at last do wicked things to her there that I didn’t even have a response for that bit of sass.

She noticed. “No comeback, cupcake?”

“I think lust has fried my brain. And it’s your fault. Way to go, you vixen. At least we’re even now.”

“Even?” she asked, confused. “How so?”