“Smooth.”
“You can demonstrate later.” Annabelle wiggles her eyebrows. “I’d love to see a dramatic reenactment.”
I shoot her a look, but I’m grinning despite myself. “You want a reenactment? Gonna need to dim the lights and clear the area. Safety first.”
Annabelle shrugs like that’s no issue. “I’ll bring a spotlight and magnifying glass.”
Deshaun chokes on his drink—technically my drink, since he’s chugging from my cup. “Oh damn! I like her.”
After several hours cramping my style, Deshaun eventually leaves with a promise to return and then: We’re left on our own, Arizona city skyline stretching beyond the window, glowing amber and lavender in the early evening light.
Beautiful.
Romantic.
She’s curled up beside me on the couch, barefoot, her hair a little messy from laughing too hard, one hand still clutching the edge of the throw blanket like she might start up again at any second.
I glance over, and she’s already looking at me. “What?” I ask.
She tilts her head. “You blushed when he was telling that story.”
“I wasnotblushing.”
“You one hundred percent were. Like, full tomato mode.” Her hand finds my thigh, and she squeezes. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute.”
I groan and rub a hand over my face. “It was a traumatic memory. And you brought up a magnifying glass like I have a small dick.”
She laughs. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“The hell it wasn’t.” I grin over at her as she moves closer.
“You don’t have a small dick.” She shifts on the couch, palm smoothing over my leg, inching closer and closer to my shaft. It twitches with interest. “I bet it doesn’t even fit in my mouth ...”
Yeah. My dick is very interested. “For science?”
She nods. “Exactly. I take scientific accuracy very seriously.”
Her hand slides higher, teasing the waistband of my shorts, and I swear I forget how to breathe. Her fingers are soft, her touch maddeningly slow.
“I mean,” she says, biting her lip as she leans forward, brushing her mouth against mine. “It would be irresponsible not to conduct a full investigation.”
My head bops up and down again, agreeing with every word coming out of her mouth ...
Uh-huh.
Yes.
Agree.
“You’re so hard already ...” she’s murmuring, shifting from her spot next to me to the area rug at our feet; kneels between my legs, her fingers tugging at the elastic of my bottoms.
I love where this is headed.
I watch, lifting my hips to offer the assist so she can pull my shorts down ... Fingers graze the waistband, teasing ... savoring every second of her little power trip.
My breath catches somewhere between anticipation and pure desperation as she peels the fabric down slowly, eyes locked on mine the entire time. The air between us crackles.
She’s on her knees, hair falling over her shoulder, gaze hot enough to scorch. “Feeling shy?”
