“That wasn’t a dick joke. You can talk to me about your feelings. I’m a lot deeper than I look.” Jean paused. “That was also not an innuendo.”
“Well, I can’t really complain about the current circumstances.” He looked down to hide his grin.
Jean kissed him again, because she wanted to, and it was easier than admitting how strongly she agreed. “Do you know what?”
He shook his head.
She whispered the words against his lips, like a seductive promise. “I challenge myself to race you to the bed.”
By the time he caught on, Jean was up and running. She had the advantage of agility, but once he got off the ground, Charlie’s long stride quickly closed the gap. They collided in the doorway. Jean used the momentum to bounce herself at the bed, landing a millisecond before he crashed into her again, both of them face-planting on the mattress.
She didn’t wait to catch her breath. Wedging her shoulder under his side, Jean tipped him onto his back, pinning him to the mattress before he returned the favor, cradling the back of her head with his hand as if she were made of blown glass.
They were laughing but also going all out, which was one of Jean’s favorite moods. Charlie tickled her, she bit him on the shoulder. When Jean went for the wedgie, the double layer of underwear proved to be an insurmountable obstacle.
Defeated, she let him settle on top of her, bracing his weight on his elbows. “Do you surrender?” he asked, breathing hard.
Jean wriggled a little, careful not to dislodge him. “I win, actually.”
“How do you figure?”
“Maybe this is what I wanted all along.”
He looked down at the place where their bodies met. From the waist up, they were naked, in his bed. It didn’t take a genius (as she suspected he was) to see the possibilities.
“Let’s call it a draw.” A hint of mischief softened the line of his mouth.
It was only a spark of devilishness, but Jean felt confident she could coax it into flame, given enough time. “Can I see it now?” she asked, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertip.
His glasses were still in the living room, giving her an unobstructed view of his glossy black brows drawing together in confusion. “My article?”
“Your snake.”
“You mean the tattoo?”
“That too.” Jean slid her hand down his back, working her fingers under the elastic of his waistbands (both of them) until she could squeeze the delicious curve that marked the general vicinity of his inked-on snake.
He swallowed. “If you want.”
And yet he seemed in no hurry to move while she had her hand in his pants. Yanking it free, she smacked his backside.“Get along, little doggie.” She was pretty sure that was how they talked where he was from. Jangling through the tumbleweeds in their spurs and big hats.
He rolled onto his side with an abashed expression, struggling to pull down both pairs at once. “I’m not very good at this,” he apologized, locked in battle with his own knee.
“It’s hard to do a quality striptease without the music,” Jean sympathized. “Do you want me to hum for you, Houdini?”
Her a cappella bump-and-grind soundtrack wasn’t technically helpful, since it made him laugh so hard he had to stop and catch his breath, but eventually he untangled his ankles and kicked free of his underwear. And since he looked a lot less self-conscious now that they’d taken a time-out for comedy, Jean counted that as a win.
“My turn.” She gave him a sultry look while unzipping her shorts. Holding eye contact, she rose to her knees and started to push them down, only to stage a pratfall and sprawl across him. “A little help?”
Charlie scrambled to comply, pulling her out of the shorts like they were on fire. He paused with his thumb hooked under the lacy elastic at her hip, meeting her eyes.
“These too?”
“Don’t you want to see my butt tattoo?”
“You have one?”
She shook her head. “It’s just a ploy to get me naked.”
