"Something wrong with that?"
"No, it's just…"
"I can't watch anime. I can't drink tea. Anything else Chloe Lee insists I can't do?"
"Be serious for more than three minutes at a time."
She might be right about that.
She steps inside. Presses the door closed behind her. So, it's just the two of us in my six hundred square foot apartment.
Fuck, usually this place feels plenty big.
But knowing I can't touch her?
"What tea do you have?"
"Everything."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Golden Needle?"
"Yeah." No. But she's bluffing. I can bluff back. I'm not a Philistine. I know tea. Even if I'm lacking that particular rare tea.
"Gyokuro."
"Of course."
"Of course?"
I nod.
Incredulity spreads over her expression. "Of course, you have a rare tea that most people have never heard of?"
I nod.
"You're so full of shit."
I shrug. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.
"Show me."
I pull the door open wider. "You don't need an excuse to come in."
"You already invited me inside." Her shoulder brushes my chest as she steps inside. Then it's her ass against my hip.
Her fingers curl into her jeans.
It's doing something to her, touching me.
Fuck, it's doing something to me.
I want to tear off those tight jeans and dive between her legs.
I want her groaning my name like I'm the center of her universe.
Like I'm the only thing she needs.
Her sandals pad the carpet. They squeak against the kitchen's beige tile.
She looks around the room curiously. "This is so… not you." Her shoulders rise to her ears as she stares up at the high cabinets.
She's way too short for this kitchen.
She looks adorable. Like a kid trying to sneak a cookie from the jar on top of the fridge.
"Tea's in the drawer on the right of the fridge."
She turns so her back is facing me. But I can still tell she's frowning. It's in her posture.
Then it's not.
She reaches for the drawer. Just taps the bottom.
She does it on her tiptoes. Still barely makes it.
"You need some help?" I offer.
"No, I've got it." She hoists herself onto the counter. Settles on her knees. Her tank top pulls up her lower back as she opens the cabinet. "I knew it."
"That I'd appreciate the view?"
She clears her throat. "You don't have Golden Needle."
"Do you even want Golden Needle?"
"No, but I—"
"You don't have to prove you're smarter than me. I concede that point."
"I just—"
"What do you want to drink?"
"Earl Grey."
Of course.
She grabs the tin of tea. Climbs down from the counter. Her lips curl into a frown as she takes in my expression. "You're a know it all."
"How's that?"
"Your smirk. It's not attractive."
"Thanks, Mom. I guess it is true you attract more flies with honey than vinegar."
She groans. "I just…" She grabs the electric kettle. Fills it with water and turns it on. "Did you invite me out to torture me?"
"Yeah." That's a part of it. A huge part.
"Why is it you love pushing my buttons?"
"'Cause it's fun."
"Is that your entire life, doing what's fun?"
Kinda, yeah. I try to keep it that way. Even when it starts to feel empty.
Those phases hit. But I always push past them. Get to the other side. To where the empty feeling is gone and it's just fun again.
I move into the kitchen. Grab cups from the cabinet behind her. Turn and hand them to her.
It's weird, having her here.
Not like with other women. There's always a purpose to that. An I'm not gonna send you home hungry after last night.
I'm in character.
But this?
This is domestic.
Like my parents sitting to their Sunday afternoon coffees.
And that—
Fuck that.
"Thanks." She sets them on the counter.
"Sure thing."
She turns back to the counter. Watches the water steam. Pours it into the mugs, one at a time. "You have honey?"
"Yeah. Stay there." I reach for the high cabinet, but I'm too far away. I move closer. Until my crotch brushes her ass. And her back brushes my chest.
Fuck, she's tiny. Her head is barely at my shoulders.
My arm brushes her side as I reach for the honey.
I set it on the counter. Step backward. But releasing her does nothing to send blood back to my brain. "Spoons are in the drawer in front of you."
"Thanks." Her ass brushes my crotch as she bends to pull it open. She grabs two spoons. "How do you like it?"
I drop into something comfortable. Teasing her. "Rough."
Her breath catches in her throat, but her sigh isn't one of desire. It's irritation. "Are you actively trying to get a rise out of me?"
"Maybe."
"You weren't…" She squeezes honey onto the spoon and stirs. "Why is it I can't tell when you're fucking with me?"
"Faith in me, I guess."
"No."
"I'm always fucking with you."
"That's the thing, Dean. You're not. You're an okay guy sometimes."
"I'll take your word for it."
She turns to me. Stares up into my eyes. She must find something, because she nods knowingly. "How do you take your tea?"
"Hot and sweet."
"Same way you take your women?" she deadpans.
"That's a good one. I'll have to add it to my repertoire."
"It's really not."
It's really not. But it's cute that she's trying. She's mocking me, yeah, but she's stooping to my level to do it.
"How sweet?" she asks.
"Enough to taste it." I place my body behind hers. Revel in the way her breath catches in her throat.
She wants me. She's not good at hiding it.
I want her.
It should be easy. Simple.
But it's not.
This, teaching her, is important. It matters. I'm not fucking it up.
"Tell me when." She squeezes honey onto a spoon. The amber liquid spirals over the silver.
"When."
She slides the spoon into the tea. Stirs. "Here." Her ass brushes against me as she turns. There's no space between us. We're right there.
Inches from touching, kissing, fucking on that countertop.
She hands the mug to me.
I step backward. Release her.
But her expression isn't relief. It's like all the heat is leaving her body. Back to Icy Chloe.
The kitchen table is close. I take a seat. Motion come here.
She stays put. "Shouldn't we head out?"
"You make this tea just to toss it?"
She nods fair enough. Takes a long sip. Lets out a soft moan. "This is good."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know." Her dark eyes find mine. "Your walls are bare."
Yeah, they are. They've been that way for a while. "And?"
"Why?" She moves into the main room. "You can't see any of the white in my bedroom. It's wall-to-wall art."
"Your art?"
"One wall. The rest is other artists. Magazine tear outs. Posters."
"Anyone hot?"
"No." She laughs. "Movie posters."
"Fight Club?"
Her brow scrunches with confusion. "Why Fight Club?"
"It just suits you."
"I thought maybe it was shirtless Brad Pitt."
"Can't object to that."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"You're not going to start bragging about how you resemble Mr. Pitt?"
"In his dreams he's even close to as hot as I am."
"Uh-huh."
I nod. "Why? You see a resemblance?"
"A little." She takes a long sip of her tea. Lets out a soft sigh. With her next sip, she moves closer. She crosses the distance between us until she's standing in front of the table. "My posters are all old movies. Classics. The ones I used to watch with my mom."
Her mom is gone. I remember that much. "You miss her?"
"A lot." She takes a long sip of her tea. Lets out another soft moan. "What exactly is it we're doing today?"
"Surfing."
A laugh escapes her lips. "Of course. That's perfect."
"I'm not that laid back."
"Yeah, you are. You might as well write nothing bothers me on your forehead."
"You've got me pegged."
She imitates me. "Now, I'll return the favor, sunshine." She makes a show of winking. And throwing out a dorky thumbs-up gesture.
This time, her laugh spreads over her chest and torso. She pulls her hand over her stomach as she doubles over.
Fuck, it's adorable.
And hot.
But I play my part. "That hurts, Chloe."
"Yeah?"