“But the beer cost, like, twelve dollars. I can’t replace this.”

“I don’t want you to replace it? You’re just…supposed to enjoy it.”

I shrink back into one of his many throw pillows and take another long sip. “You’re doing a very bad job at not making this romantic.”

“Let’s see how romantic you think I am when I finish this entire cake.”

I watch him shovel two forkfuls into his mouth before I sit up and scoot closer. He glares at me and shifts away, a protective arm around the box.

“You’re not being very nice right now,” I tell him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been nicer,” he says and takes another bite. “I’ve given you expensive wine and haven’t kicked you back out into the snow.”

“Fake Boyfriend of the Year.”

I’m on my knees and inching closer, like a lioness on the prowl, ready and waiting to pounce. If you look up the word seduction in the dictionary, it’s a picture of me. Asher won’t be able to resist me for much longer.

“You look terrifying.”

“Terrifying or the star of your next wet dream?”

“Terrifying, you fucking weirdo. Go away.”

“Give me the cake, Asher. This is not proper birthday etiquette.”

“And what exactly is proper birthday etiquette?”

“Sharing your cake with—”

He shoves his fork right into my mouth and laughs when I choke.

“Sorry, was that not what you meant?”

Scowling at him and trying to chew is proving to be difficult. There’s too much in my mouth. I resemble a chipmunk.

“You’re a mess,” he laughs and swipes his thumb over my lower lip, collecting a glob of strawberry jam that never made it into my mouth. He licks his finger clean.

Which may have turned me on more than it should.

“This is, like, the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Eight-year-old Asher was a gourmet genius.”

“How did you even come up with this? Are you some sort of peanut butter and jelly connoisseur?”

He laughs shyly under his breath. “It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not.”

He takes a bite of cake and then offers me one. No begging, crying, or whining needed. I hold his stare as he pulls the fork from my mouth, which may have been a little more erotic than I intended. I probably could have done without moaning, but I can’t help what good food does to me. This cake is better than sex.

Well, better than any sex I’ve had.

I have a sneaking suspicion that sex with Asher might take the figurative cake.