"I really can't see you as the diary type, though," I said.
He faked an affronted look. "And what sort of type is that?"
"The kind to reflect on things. Like I said before, you're a spontaneous kind of guy. So I think that's the lie."
That little smirk of his returned.
"Wrong," he declared. "The lie was that I slept with a stuffed elephant, not a giraffe."
"What! That's cheating!"
"Not at all," he said. "I can keep the lie as close to the truth as I like. Take a drink."
He handed me the bottle of rum with the cap unscrewed. I took a healthy swig and immediately started coughing.
"Ugh," I choked out. "Couldn't you have chosen a drink that goes down easier?"
"You should be glad I didn't use Seth's drink," he said.
I wiped my wet lips with my shirtsleeve.
"Wait," I said. "So that means you actually kept a diary?"
"Sure did."
"I'm astounded and impressed."
"It wasn't a diary of secrets and thoughts," he said. "Mostly it was lists of guitars I wanted to buy, songs I wanted to practice, venues I wanted to perform at, things like that."
"I don't know if that counts," I said. "That's more of a career planning journal."
"Career planning?" He blanched. "That sounds so formal and business-y."
"Nothing wrong with planning your career," I said. "It shows you have foresight and the discipline to work hard to meet your goals."
"I guess," he said, shifting on the bed awkwardly.
"So that means doggie style is your favorite position?" I asked. "Let me guess, you love having a girl's ass in your face?" I was only being half sarcastic.
"That's definitely a perk," he drawled. "But the best part?"
Nathan moved closer. He placed a hand at the back of my neck. I stared at him, not blinking. He slowly ran a hand from my neck, down my spine, to the small of my back. He kept his hand resting there, pressing firmly. The heat of his palm burned into me, even through my clothes. My stomach clenched.
"I love that sexy curve when a girl's arching her back," he murmured, his lips close to my ear.
I inhaled a quick breath.
Nathan removed his hand, returning to his spot on the bed.
"Your turn," he said, an amused smile playing on his lips.
My brain was still muddled from his touch, a flush rising through my belly to my cheeks. I had to think fast.
"My favorite food is brussels sprouts," I said, starting off easy. "I've never been to a baseball game. And—" I paused for the briefest of moments to hide a smile, "—I can bring myself to orgasm in under a minute."
A wicked smirk spread across his face. "I'm going to call truth on that last one, just because I'm hoping for a demonstration."
"It's a lie," I said.
