John paused in his stirring to look at her. Victoria’s eyes shined brightly with the memory and possibly the wine. “There you go,” he said softly. “You’re not faking it, Victoria.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Johnny.”

He tried to not let the small gesture make his heart bloom. He cleared his throat. “Talking about these things usually helps,” he said in a perfunctory tone as he dumped the tomatoes into the skillet.

“Well, I don’t think I talk about it like that often,” she said.

“I’m going to let this simmer for a while,” he said, tossing his towel on the counter. “You want me to top you off?” He gestured to her wine glass.

She shook her head. “I think I’m already tipsy.”

John left the kitchen and moved towards the living room. “You want to move to the couch while we wait on the sauce?”

Victoria slid off her barstool and joined him. When she sat down, he followed, giving her a respectful distance on the couch. He couldn’t stand the silence, so he turned on the television and put on the Dave Matthews Band station, setting it on low volume. She leaned against the cushions and tucked her legs under her. “This is awkward,” she murmured.

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. They’d just finished their first real date after a week of carefree hookups. She was in his home now; he was making her pasta. It was almost laughable how “normal” they were trying to behave, instead of doing what was most natural, like ripping each other’s clothes off. “It doesn’t have to be,” he tried. “We don’t have to do anything but sit here and talk.”

She shifted in her seat. “Thank you,” she said. “But I don’t want to do that.”

John met her gaze and took a deep breath. Victoria stared at him, heady desire in her eyes. With some of her braids shrouding half her face, she looked downright wicked. “What would you like to do?”

A small ghost of a smile played on her lips. “I’d hate to be blunt,” she said. “Because that takes the fun out of it.”

She’d had quite a bit of wine, so John wanted to make certain anyway. “What would you like to do, my dear?” he repeated.

Victoria didn’t reply. Instead, she left her side of the couch to stand before him. John watched quietly as she stepped between his spread legs and undid the first couple of buttons on her flannel shirt, revealing the top of a black lace bra and gentle curve of her breasts. John breathed through his nose as Victoria slowly ran her hands down to her waist. When her hands stopped she flashed him a wanton smile. “Would you like me to take this off or would you?”

She was issuing him a challenge. “What would you like?” he asked.