She shivers slightly, and I feel her hands slide up my arms to my shoulders. Her lips part, and I deepen the kiss, taking my time, savoring the minty taste of her mouth and the soft sounds she makes.
When I pull back, her eyes are heavy-lidded. She thinks she knows where this is going—and normally, she'd be right. But tonight, I have other ideas.
"Can I ask you something?" I say, my hands still on her hips.
"Anything," she breathes, clearly distracted.
"Are you ticklish?"
Her eyes widen a split second before I launch my attack. My fingers find her ribs, and she explodes into laughter, squirming and thrashing.
"Sebastian!" she squeals, trying to escape. "Don't you dare!"
But I do dare, digging my fingers into all her sensitive spots, sending her into hysterics. She falls onto the bed and writhes, thrashing back and forth, gasping for breath between laughs.
"Stop!" she begs, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "I can't breathe!"
"Magic word?" I tease, easing up just enough to let her catch her breath.
"Please!" she gasps.
"That's not it."
"Mercy!"
I shake my head, grinning. "Try again."
She narrows her eyes, then lunges forward suddenly, tackling me backward onto the bed and straddling me. "How about this—stop tickling me, or I'll make you regret it."
I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the weight of her on top of me. "That sounds promising."
She leans down, her face inches from mine. "You're impossible."
"Part of my charm."
Her expression softens, and she touches my face. "It actually is."
I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I interrupted what was becoming a very interesting moment."
"No, you're not."
"You're right, I'm not," I laugh.
I grab her sides again, catching her off guard, and she collapses against me in a fit of giggles.
"You—absolute—monster!" she gasps between laughs, squirming on top of me.
Her body writhes against mine in the most distracting way possible. I roll us over, pinning her beneath me, fingers still finding every ticklish spot until she's breathless and begging.
"Fine! Uncle! Whatever the magic word is!"
I stop, hovering above her, both of us breathing hard. Her hair fans across the pillow, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with laughter and something deeper. Could she be feeling what I’m feeling?
"The magic word," I murmur, lowering my lips to hers, "was Shortcake."
Chapter thirty-two
Charlie
