“Now you’re just being—”

Of course she looked down. Those green eyes locked onto his zipper and her pink lips parted in a sexy little O.

“Now I’m just being what?” he prompted.

“Just being…grouchy?” She was still staring. And he was starting to like it.

“You’re asking me if I’m being grouchy?”

“What?” She gave a little head shake and dragged her gaze away from his pants. “I mean. Food. Cooking. Well, baking. I’m pretty good at baking things.”

She was looking at the ceiling now, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. He wanted to order her to look down again, then realized he was being a masochistic idiot.

“Fine. Baking. I’ll walk you out.” And wrap his hand around his dick the second he shut the door behind her.

He led the way, in a hurry to get her out of his house, out of his head. At the front door, he spotted the bag on the floor and grabbed it.

“You look tired,” she observed. “Are you okay?” She was looking at his crotch again. Only this time, her tongue darted out, and she licked her lower lip.

His cock twitched in reaction, and she made a strangled little noise. A man could only take so much torture.

“Fine. Great. Good.” He held the bag out to her. “Here.”

“What’s in the bag?” she asked, looking as if she was addressing his dick.

“Meat. It’s for you. Pickings are slim this time of year. Figured you haven’t had time to stock up.”

He held out the handles and tried not to jump back when her fingers got tangled in his. Normal people could touch other people’s fingers and not get hard-ons. Not spontaneously erupt in their uniform pants. He needed to be normal.

“Mac and cheese? You remembered.” She looked up at him with a real smile, and it hit him dead center in the chest. Ah, fuck. This was a huge mistake.

“Everybody likes mac and cheese,” he said gruffly.

“This is really sweet of you, Brick.”

“Yeah. I’ll get you a key.” He ripped the front door open. “I’ll see you around.”

“Is it okay if I put my boots on first?”

Fuck. “Yeah. You can let yourself out. I have to…” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Get back to work.” Yeah, that was it.

Without another word, he turned his back on her and headed for the back of the house as if he was running toward an emergency. By the time he got to the bathroom door in what was now Remi’s new studio, he already had his dick in his hand.

Before he slid the pocket door closed, he was already giving his shaft a violent stroke.

He barely had time to brace one hand on the vanity, barely had a moment to imagine himself peeling down those leggings and bending her over before he was already coming. It was an unrelenting torture, being this close to her and still fucking his own goddamn hand. That first wrenching spurt dragged a groan out of his throat as he painted the countertop with his release, wishing it was Remi’s tight little ass.