She swipes my hand away, the pulse in her neck speeding up. “I’m good at a few things too.” I move even closer. “Do tell.” This time, she shuffles back. “Coming up with creative insults, cooking inedible food, spending absurd amounts of money—” I take another step toward her. Her eyes narrow. “Making grown men suffer—” “Don’t stop, you’re turning me on.” Her mouth parts in shock. “Jesus, there’s something wrong with you.”
