I suck on my empty fork, not about to let a single drop of Mason’s grandma’s pie go to waste. His eyes fall to my lips and linger. Then a guilty look comes over his face and he subtly shakes his head. “Well, you’re pretty talented in the kitchen yourself.” Mason points his fork at his nearly empty plate. “Why is this so fucking good?” He brings his hand to his mouth, licking sauce off of his finger. My gaze catches on the motion of his tongue as it swirls the tip of his thumb. I die a little bit inside, wishing he were licking me. Any part of me. I’m not picky.
