27
Sarah ate pizza wearing only Joe’s dress shirt, loose and unbuttoned. She didn’t mind the splash of sauce she left on the pocket, any more than she minded that the shirt didn’t smell clean, but smelled of Joe’s perspiration from the day.
She liked the scent of him.
He reached out and pulled one of her feet onto his lap. “When you said that in the deposition the other day about painting your toenails pink...” He got a lustful, faraway look in his eye that made Sarah laugh.
“You like that, huh?” She wriggled her toes until he closed his warm hand around them. With his free hand he reached for another slice of pizza.
“Could you get used to this?” Sarah asked.
“I already am.”
“No, the pizza,” she said, resisting the urge to answer Me, too. “I mean without pepperoni or sausage. Would
