She gave him another eyeroll that he'd never see when he asked about the cake. Of course she'd tried it. She'd tried it with him. And they'd both all but swooned over how good it was. If it weren't for her fear of becoming the size of the flat itself, she'd probably have challenged him for the whole thing.
His comment, however, earned him a smug look. "Are you complaining?" she questioned, but she didn't stop. If he asked her to, of course she would. But she doubted that was going to be an issue. "Maybe I just like that expression you're making." Or maybe she just enjoyed having him as complete putty in her hands. Touching him never got less thrilling for her, and if he benefited from it, then where, exactly, lay the problem?