“Safe?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, I think you need to explain that because I’m confused.”
He leans forward onto his knees and stirs his remaining pasta around in the bowl, smearing the ceramic with green pesto. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. What did you expect me to say?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here, but I’m not going to force you. Unless you want me to. There’s a pair of handcuffs in the study.” I waggle my eyebrows. “I could cuff your wrists and sit on you until you tell me everything.”
Jett looks away.
I need to learn when to stop talking. “Or you could cuff my wrists and sit on me.” That’s not any better.
He runs his finger around the neckline of his T-shirt and clears his throat. “Could we—?”
“Yeah, good idea.” I flop against the sofa and stare straight ahead as I finish my pasta.
Once Jett has finished too, I take the bowls to the kitchen and wash everything up. While I do that, Jett brings the remnants from last night’s drinking session through and sorts them into things that can be recycled and things that need to go in the bin. The house is clean and tidy, but we aren’t. My skin is getting prickly from being in day-old clothing. I am in desperate need of a shower.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say once we’re back in the sitting room.
“What?” Jett’s stare is wary.
Not that I blame him. I have been the king of inappropriate conversation since we woke up this morning. It’s so hard to keep my thoughts in my head. I’ve fancied him for years. Years.
“We could play Never Have I Ever.”
He narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that a drinking game?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t thinking we’d play with alcohol. I can’t think of anything worse than getting drunk again.”
“So, what? We’d drink apple juice instead?”
I snigger. “We could, or we could take our clothes off.”
His eyes bug out of his head.
I wave my hands. “If we’ve done something, we take one item of clothing off. We stop when one of us is down to their underwear. Then we can put our clothes in the washing machine and go have a shower.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Showers. We can go and have showers. In separate bathrooms. There are three, plus the shower in the utility room. We’re spoilt for choice.” I take a deep breath and grin.
“We take our clothes off?” he repeats.
“Only down to our underwear.” Unless he wants to go further. Which he won’t. Why would he? “Bad idea?”
He turns his back on me, walks to the window, and looks out at the forest. I fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt. Okay, it was probably a bad idea. On the other hand, he hasn’t said no. Yet. And while he decides, I drool at him being all broody. No one has any business looking so hot while staring out a window. I can relate to his comment about time moving slowly now. Waiting for him to respond is sheer torture. I rack my brain for ideas for other things we can do. Appropriate things.
He turns around. “Fuck it,” he mutters. “We’ve got nothing else to do.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Is that a yes?”
He nods. “We don’t have that many clothes on anyway.”
