“Do what?”
“Convince yourself that you’re the good kind of nervous instead of the bad kind.”
I frown. “How would I do that?”
She shrugs. “You just do it. Just tell yourself that you’re not anxious, you’re excited. Works every time.”
“It does not.”
“It does,” she says, laughing. “Try it.”
I scrub a hand over my face. The late afternoon sun is turning her hair rose gold. I want to bury my fingers in those silky soft waves, pull her close, taste the salt on her neck, whisper filthy things into her ear about what I’m going to do to her when we get where we’re going.
Instead, I exhale a dubious-sounding sigh and pretend I’m capable of going more than five minutes without thinking about getting her naked. I’ve always had a healthy sex drive, but this is ridiculous.
What she does to me is ridiculous.
I couldn’t have picked a woman it’s harder to “fake it” with if I’d tried.
“So, I just…tell myself I’m excited?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“No,” I counter.
“Yes! Just do it. Out loud. I want to make sure you sound like you mean it.”
I roll my eyes, but when she prods again, I give in, “Fine. I’m not anxious, I’m excited.”
She pulls a face, sticking out her tongue. “Boo. Terrible. Try again. With feeling this time.”
“I’m not anxious, I’m excited!” I say, in a corny “upbeat” voice, any haunted doll from a horror movie would be proud of.
She side-eyes me. “Am I going to have to pull this car over?”
“Depends on what you’re going to do to me when you pull over,” I say. “If it’s a spanking, then I think, yes. A spanking might help me feel less nervous.”
Pink creeps into her cheeks as she adjusts her grip on the wheel. “I’m not sure what that says about you, Baylor.”
“It says you should just tell me where we’re going. And what we’re doing there, Charlotte.”
She bites her lip for a moment before shaking her head. “Not until you say you’re excited like you mean it.”
“I’m not anxious, I’m excited,” I say with as much genuine belief as I can manage. “I am not nervous or anxious or anything the slightest bit negative. I am excited, pumped, ramped up, and ready to do the damned thing. As soon as I know what the damned thing is.”
She nods, casting an approving glance my way as she purrs, “Much better. Much, much better.”
“Hearing a man positively affirm makes your panties wet?”
She laughs, a sharp giggle that makes me think I took her by surprise. And even more intriguing, that it might be true…
“No! And stop that,” she says, slapping my thigh. “No talking about my panties in private.”
“Only in public?”
“Yes,” she says, then immediately seems to rethink the wisdom of that. “No. Well, maybe, depending on the context, but you should run it by me first.” Her lips twitch as she fights asmile, “But to answer your question honestly…a little. Your voice is nice and rumbly when you’re affirming. It’s pretty hot.”
I lean back against the seat, grinning. “Yeah?”
