Help me. Cecily's nipples welt beneath the thin fabric, and I swear,I swear, they are calling to me.
She gives me a droll look. "Yes, yes, I have nipples. They are erect. Changing in a room with the air conditioning blasting will do that to a girl."
Summoning all my strength, I force my gaze to remain on Cecily's face, which isn't exactly a hardship because she is so, so lovely. "Is that your version of a lady boner?"
Cecily smirks, sliding past me to the bed. She pats my chest on the way by. "Nope."
I rake a hand down my face and follow her to bed. Setting my laptop on the nightstand, I climb in beside her. She snuggles down, eyes on me. Reaching behind my neck, I tug off the T-shirt I wore out of the bathroom.
"Whoa, whoa," Cecily says, alarmed. "Why are you undressing?"
"Calm down. I realize my naked torso is a lot for you to handle, but let's be adults about it, alright?" It's possible I'm enjoying her perusal of my chest and torso equally as much as I enjoyed it at the pool this afternoon. "Besides, this is more than I usually sleep in."
"You sleep naked?"
"Sure. Things need to breathe."
Cecily's eyes narrow. That playful sparkle enters those brown irises, and I know,I just know, I am in for it. Her hands disappear under the bedding, she wiggles, and out from under the sheets she produces a black thong. She positions her fingers in the scrap of clothing, and slingshots it across the room, where it lands softly beside my bag.
Here lies Dominic Bellinger.He died bravely.
Cecily grins, a menace in every sense of the word. Leaning back on her elbows, she glances at me, all innocence and wide eyes. "Things need to breathe." Then she flops over, stretching out to turn off her lamp.
I do the same, feeling as if all the blood has been sucked from my body. Into the darkness, I say, "I better not find you on my half of the bed."
She snorts. "Oh, please. With the look you just gave me? I won't be surprised if I find you draped across me by midnight."
I'd like to do far more with her than that, which means I need to change the subject. "You don't like Rainbow, do you?"
Cecily yawns. "Her face is so punchable."
I laugh. "Have you ever punched someone?"
"No. But when I do, I'm going to do a really good job. Closed fist, follow through."
"Remind me not to get on your bad side."
"You've been on my bad side since the day I met you."
"Have I?"
Long pause. "Yes," she finally says.
But she doesn't mean it. I know it, but more importantly, she knows it.
"I'm comfortable with PDA," I tell her, remembering what she said when I stepped from the bathroom after showering.
"Huh?"
"Public displays of affection. You said we needed to talk about what level of physical affection I'm comfortable with."
"Are you saying that because it's an opportunity to touch me?"
"Sort of sounds like you're accusing me of being a creep."
"I am not."
For a woman who claims to have never punched anybody, Cecily spends a lot of time with her fists in fighting stance.
