Page 54 of Bringing Out Her Bad

His smile is devilish. “While I’m exceptionally glad to hear that, I’m afraid I’m still battling to understand what’s happening here.”

“I’ll explain it at breakfast,” I say. “I’m taking you out.”

He pulls a face. “No offense, but I don’t want cheap Chinese for breakfast.”

“Such a snob,” I reply, whacking him.

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate the offer of congealed noodles and questionable dumplings, especially with all that yummy MSG.”

I pretend-gasp. “You’re a snob and a racist.”

“I’m a racist? Because I don’t like swimming in monosodium glutamate?”

“Yes.”

He laughs again. “You youngsters.”

“I’m not that young,” I say. Just because I live like a broke student doesn’t make me adolescent. “You, on the other hand, are ancient.”

“Really?” he says, hiding his smile. “Ancient?”

“Geriatric,” I joke.

“Would a geriatric do this?” he asks. He whips off the duvet and grabs my ass, then leans down and bites it.

I squeal and kick. He grabs my legs to avoid getting a knee in the nose, kisses the bite-mark and pulls the blanket back over me.

“How ancient are you, anyway?” I ask.

“Thirty-eight,” he replies.

I pretend to be scandalized. “That’s almost forty!”

“I look thirty, though,” he says.

I snort, but I’m just teasing. He does look young, but his sophisticated clothes and manners make him seem older.

“It’s one of the reasons I find you so attractive,” I say.

“My jurassic face?”

“Your maturity.”

“That’s one way to call me old.”

“No, I’m being serious,” I say. “I’ve only ever dated boys. Boys who can’t control their moods, who make stupid mistakes, who dither and lose things and shout and throw tantrums … and then tell everyone else to grow up.”

“Harsh,” he says.

“But true,” I counter. My heart beats faster. Was this turning into a moment? “But you’re completely different. You’re so … in control. Of yourself, your surroundings. It makes me feel safe.”

His chest swells with a deep breath. “I’m glad. I’m glad you feel safe with me. It’s … important.”

“Also, the money doesn’t hurt,” I say. “That’s pretty attractive, too.”

“Ha! Are you coming to the dark side? Admitting you like money?”

The dark side. If someone could lead me there, it’s him.