He drops in his seat across from me, looking pleased. He doesn't even blink when I rip off the wrapper and cram the chocolate in my mouth with both hands. I eat like a chipmunk preparing for winter, and look up at him with both cheeks full.
"You would make someone a lovely boyfriend."
"No," he mutters, and I agree happily.
"No, you're right. You're a grouch. But the saving my life, making me breakfast, giving me chocolate…" I give him a thumbs up. "Did I thank you, by the way?"
"Yeah."
I wipe my mouth and say it again. "Thank you for saving my life."
"No problem."
"And for calling me beautiful."
His gaze shoots up and meets mine and I'm stunned. A ripple goes through my body-a shockwave of desire. The room, the snow outside: everything is the same. And everything is different.
"Um, that was nice of you," I whisper.
"No problem," he says to the tabletop.
I finish my chocolate. "Sorry, I should've saved some for you."
"It's okay." He has a strange look on his face. "You can make it up to me. Your turn. Truth."
"Me?" Is it my turn? "Wait, that's not how it works. I get to choose."
"Truth," he insists. "Why don't you have a man?"
"You mean a boyfriend?"
"I mean a man," he emphasizes firmly.
"Why don't you?" I retort. He shakes his head. I sigh. I do owe him for the candy bar. "Truth? I don't like sex."
"What?" He freezes.
"I said I don't like sex." I lift my chin. "It's completely overrated."
"Overrated."
"Yeah, you know," I wave my hand. In for a penny, in for a pound. "All this wooing and all the love songs, and what they write in romance novels. It's not true. Sex is messy, sometimes it's downright gross. At least it lasts only a few minutes."
"A few minutes," Caleb repeats disbelievingly.
"Yeah." I get defensive. "Don't tell me you take longer or something. Every guy thinks he's God's gift to women and… well, it's just disappointing."
I fiddle with the candy wrapper. The heat of Caleb's… emotion or something emanates from him. Sears me across the distance between us.
Caleb sets the bottle down with a decisive thump. I jump as his chair scrapes backwards and he prowls around the table, plants a hand in front of me and on the back of my chair, and leans in close.
"Are you telling me"-his eyes rove up and down my face-"that a woman who looks like you, with that hot as fuck body… has never known pleasure by a man?"
Caleb the mountain man, pulling no punches.
My pussy clenches. Heat feathers across my skin.
"Um-"
He lays a big hand on my collarbone, his thumb finding my pulse and lightly stroking. Holy hell, my body comes alive. The angel choir is singing, and he's barely even touching me.
"Body like this was made to be stripped naked. Stroked all over." His voice seeps into secret places. I usually hate-despise-being reduced to a pair of big tits. Objectification of women makes me crazy. But my body responds to his every word. His eyes meet mine with the impact of a stun gun. The light hits them at a strange angle, making them appear yellow instead of brown. "…worshipped. I would take so much time…" His hand cups the back of my neck, massaging. I melt. Ten seconds, and I'm butter on a hot griddle. "Countless orgasms," he murmurs. "Endless pleasure. The fact that you haven't met a man to give you all that, baby… it's a crime against humanity."
I open my mouth but can't make a sound.
"First thing I'd do, Dr. M"-he stares at my lips-"is take that mouth. That pouty, smart mouth. I'd kiss you until you couldn't keep still. Then I'd pin your arms above your head, hold you down and kiss you some more." He inhales deeply, like he can't get enough of my scent. His eyes rove over me as potent as any touch. Tingles start at my breasts and spread outward. "Then I'd undress you, slowly. Kiss you some more. Find out where to touch. What makes you sigh. I'd taste you"-he swallows, and I gulp in some air-"all over. Everywhere." His voice deepens. Ripples spread through my body, pulling me under. "And then…"
A long pause.
"And then?" I squeak.
He blows out a breath. I lean in close and he goes tense.
"No," he says.
"No?"
"This is a bad idea." He retreats.
My mouth falls open.
"We shouldn't. I shouldn't…" He rubs his hand over his face. "Forget what I said."
"What?" I'm on my feet. "You can't just… say all those things to me and then back off!"
"Miranda-" Confusion flits over his face.
"Countless orgasms? Endless pleasure?" I wave my arms. "Taste me all over? You can't say those things to a… a… sexually deprived woman and then just leave me hanging."
He stares at me, pain around his eyes, mirroring my own.
I take a deep breath and say the most outrageous thing I've ever said, much less thought. "You have to show me what you got."
"No."
"Caleb! Please?" I gesture to the bedroom.
He narrows his eyes at me. "It's a bad idea."
I rise, sending my chair flying. Ignoring the crash behind me, I slam my hand on the table. "You know what I think? You're all talk and no walk."
"Excuse me?" he growls.
"That's right. You heard me. You're scared I'll find you lacking."
"I am not scared." He comes at me again, big muscle man. I have his number.
"You are too." I puff out my chest and my nipples poke him. My knees wobble but I hold my ground. "You're up here, hiding from the world, a big fat chicken."
"Miranda-"
"Bwook bwook bwook," I do my best chicken imitation. It is a fabulous imitation-very authentic.