He smacked her ass again to get her moving.
“Will you stop doing that?” she asked in exasperation as she stood up and padded over to her pile of clothes and bent to pick them up.
“Not if you keep doing that.”
She came straight up, ruining the view, and whirled around, her clothes pressed against her naked body, cheeks pink. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”
“Yep. And you like it. Admit it.” Grinning, Ty leaned back against his headboard, his arms behind his head, totally naked, with an erection reaching for the ceiling.
Her fingers squeezed her clothes tighter as her eyes crawled the length of his body, but she didn’t say anything.
“Admit it, Emma Jean.” The need to tease her was replaced with desire at her bold staring, and his voice deepened, roughened. “You like it when I touch you, when I push you down on the bed, when I f**k you. When I spank you. Tell me you like it.”
Visibly swallowing first, she whispered, “I like it.” Then she turned and rushed into his bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Ty banged his head back against the wall, mentally berating himself. He should have kept his damn mouth shut. Now Imogen was skittish and his dick was throbbing with a want that couldn’t be satisfied at the moment.
Climbing out of bed gingerly, wondering how he was going to shove his erection into a pair of boxers without it snapping off, he figured he got what he deserved.
And maybe if he shoveled enough grits in his mouth, he wouldn’t beg Imogen to come to Martinsville with him so he could make love to her sexy little ass every free second he had.
TY wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to make a big Southern breakfast. Imogen sat across from him at his kitchen table and watched him plow his way through eggs, ham, hash browns, three biscuits with gravy, grits, and a hunk of French bread with butter. If she ate that much food, she could guarantee she would be writhing in agony before vomiting.
But she was absolutely starving, not to mention she had a point to prove that she was no Nikki, so she ate a smaller portion than Ty of everything, except for the grits. Those she just couldn’t handle, and while she didn’t want to offend him, she wouldn’t make herself swallow them either.
He noticed, unfortunately, and commented on it. “You’re not eating your grits.”
“I don’t like them. It’s a texture issue. I’ve tried but I can’t have something wet and gelatinous and creamy in my mouth like that. I just can’t get it down my throat.”
Ty paused with his biscuit halfway to his mouth and let out a huge laugh.
“What?” she asked, baffled. “What’s so funny?”
“That sounds like a fair description of what wound up in your mouth not even an hour ago, and you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”
“Oh!” Imogen felt her cheeks heat up. He had the uncanny ability to bring everything back around to sex. Not that she was complaining. “It’s not the same thing at all,” she said, though she honestly couldn’t say why not. “I guess passion alters everything.”
“No doubt about that.”
Now she was intrigued at the thought, and she smiled a little as she mulled it over, pushing her fork around her plate. “I mean, think about it. What differentiates sexual fluids from other viscous fluids? Snot has a very similar consistency to, say, vaginal fluid, yet no one wants to slide their tongue through snot. It seems that the origin of a slippery liquid alters the reaction it receives, with total extremes, one being gross and one sexy. Hmm. Very interesting, don’t you think?”
Imogen glanced up to see Ty holding his fist over his mouth, his face turning red. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head no, but before Imogen could jump up and Heimlich the biscuit out of his windpipe, he swallowed hard and let out a wet, choking laugh.
“Oh, my God. Are you trying to kill me?” His eyes watered as he choked and laughed, laughed and choked, pounding on his chest.
“What?” she asked, mystified.
“Do not say things like sliding your tongue through snot while I am drinking coffee, babe.” His laughing and coughing settled down and he shook his head at her in amusement. “You are absolutely hilarious. I love the way you look at things.”
Wow. Ty thought she was funny? No one had ever indicated they found her in any way humorous before.
He thought she was sexy and funny.
Imogen smiled back at him and thought she could really, really get used to this.
CHAPTER TEN
TY shoved miscellaneous crap into his suitcase and glanced around his bedroom. He was late and undoubtedly going to arrive in Martinsville forgetting something seriously important. But he had underwear and he had his toiletries bag, which stayed packed all the time, so he wasn’t sure what else mattered. He shoved gym shoes into the bag and dialed Toni on his cell phone.
“Where are you?” Toni asked suspiciously after greeting him.
“At home.”
“You’re going to miss your plane,” she said matter-of-factly.
“No, I’m not.” He didn’t think. Ty zipped his bag and glanced around the room. Nothing important jumped out at him so he grabbed the duffel and headed toward the door. “Listen, I need you to get a copy of Much Ado About Nothing on audio for my laptop. E-mail it to me and I’ll download it at the airport.”
“Yesterday it was a guidebook on how to marry a driver, today it’s Shakespeare. Interesting.”
Ty chose to ignore that since he was in a hurry. “And see if you can get me some kind of study guide or Cliffs Notes to go with it.”
“That might be tricky on audio, Ty.”
He wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. Sometimes it was just damn irritating to not be able to read. “I know, but please try.”
“Okay, I will. So you need this before you board?”
“Yep.”
“I’d better hurry then. Anything else?”
“Yes.” Ty glanced at the clock in his kitchen, winced, and sprinted toward the garage. He shouldn’t have lingered over breakfast with Imogen. “I need to cancel everything on the schedule for Monday and Tuesday.”
“What?” Toni shrieked at him.
“You heard me. And book me a campsite at Lake Norman for Monday night.”
“I can’t do that. You can’t just cancel everything.”
“Is there anything vital? Any sponsor events? Charity appearances?”
There was a big long pause, then Toni admitted, “No.”