Breakfast on Tuesday

9. Backchat girl

I finished my toast before relaxing in my chair to watch Dante eat. His bites of pancake were huge but he chewed slowly, thoughtfully, as if that corrupted tongue of his could single out and taste every ingredient in his food.

He may have had a pirate's mouth, but his soft-looking lips were perfectly shaped and primed for kissing. His cupid's bow was sharp and his bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top.

He swallowed, the movement causing his Adam's apple to bob. His eyes flicked up to pierce mine. "You're staring, thinking to yourself whether or not you should fuck me. The only answer is yes. If you say no, I'll die an unhappy man and you will never get rid of that itch you feel for me."

"So that's what this is, an itch? I'm sure I can just scratch it away."

"My fingers are ready whenever you are." His hazel eyes blazed with heat and I didn't want to know the thoughts and images floating around in his oversexualized head right now.

His fingers. My itch. I could do the math. It was the baby-making kind of math that I knew next to nothing about if I didn't count all the smut I read in books online.

"I say you keep your fingers wrapped around that fork."

"My right hand is still free."

"Yes, free to jerk yourself off later tonight," I said, smirking mischievously when a small smile grazed his lips and his eyes glinted with amusement.

"Why do you resist something as natural as this? This tension between us, it's there for a reason."

"And what reason would that be? Please come up with an intellectual answer that doesn't involve sex." I took a sip of water and then leaned back in my chair, challenging him with my eyes as I did so.

"Tension is chemistry, and chemistry is sex. There is no way around it. You're a beautiful woman and my intentions aren't pure... they're driven by a carnal force. There isn't enough basis for anything else. All I can do is be upfront about it. Be honest about wanting your body in my bed." His eyes darkened before he picked up his knife once more and went back to eating his pancakes, which he now finished in one large final bite.

A small drop of syrup clung to his full bottom lip. Something, no, correction, that naughty part of my brain that seemingly got activated in Dante's presence told me to lean over the table and lick it off.

I didn't. Couldn't. He eventually took care of the problem by swiping his tongue across his lower lip. And now I was jealous of his lips.

His deep voice cut through my jealous haze. "You're staring again. At my lips this time. Is that your answer?"

"To what question?"

"To let me own your body when you're in my bed."

Yes!

"No. Tell me more about this war." I needed to know why he talked so casually about dying, almost as if it was a given. Or maybe all this talk about dying was just an excuse to get into my pants? Or maybe it wasn't a ruse at all and he and Mateo were in the military and were probably getting deployed to fight the enemy overseas.

"Fuck, woman. At this point, you're practically begging me to shut you up with my cock. It's snowing outside, it's warm in here, and you look fucking ravishing sitting across from me and all you want to do is talk about war? Why do you want to know? If it's to justify sleeping with me, don't. Fuck me because you want to. Use me, I don't care. If Anna wasn't here, I would take you right here on this table in front of the window."

I'll be damned.

Why was that hot and messed up at the same time? I wasn't begging for anything, was I? And least of all for him to shut me up with his... his manhood. A kiss would do perfectly fine.