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“I am appalled that you would think that about me!” She pulls the pillow from behind her head and chucks it at me. I save the champagne, but just barely. “I have two, sort of. One is still a work in progress.”
“Are you going to tell me more, or am I supposed to keep guessing?”
“Please, I can’t take any more of your awful guesses.” She swings her feet off the couch and sits up, climbing onto her knees and twisting to roll down the back of her jumpsuit. “See this?” She moves her hair out of the way and aims to point out four thin rectangles, but she can’t quite reach. “Those are supposed to be the spines of my books. And then every other book I write will be stacked on top of it.”
“Much better than my idea,” I admit. I’m about to ask questions about the three of her books I haven’t read when she continues.
“And you saw the birds.” She readjusts her outfit and sits back on her heels.
“Birds?”
“Yeah. Yesterday.” She reaches her hand across her chest and pats at an area at her upper ribs. “The birds.” Surely she can read the confusion on my face, and she grabs the champagne and takes another drink. “Sawyer. Are you that oblivious? They were out there on full display!”
My hands go clammy with the playful scolding. If she has a tattoo of birds, I certainly didn’t see it. “I was a little distracted. My focus was not on the side of your body.”
Color rushes to her cheeks, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the reference to yesterday’s, shall we say, excursion. If anything, she seems emboldened by it. “So when do I get to see yours?” she asks.
“Only once you can prove you’ll never make fun of me for the location of it.”
“Well, shit. So, never, I guess?” She grabs the bottle, takes a sip, and extends the champagne to me again.
I take it and shrug. “Knowing you, probably not.” When her laughter fades, I run a thumb over the label on the bottle. “I’m sorry I got that last one wrong. I just couldn’t say ‘C.’ Not after seeing you these past couple days, the way you seem to come alive when you’re near the water.”
“It’s okay,” she says, and her voice is calmer, more reserved.
“It wouldn’t have felt right to lie. I mean, I’m not judging you, for sticking with the plan. I just—”
“What do you mean by that?” she asks, shifting her body.
“Nothing. I just… I know you’d said, B-A-C was the order, and the first two were fair, but I didn’t want to give a bogus answer just to win.”
She whispers something, and I have to ask her to repeat it. “I just said, it wasn’t a bogus answer.”
My breath catches and my heart beats a little heavier than it did two minutes ago. “I—”
“Don’t be weird, okay?”
“It’s a little too late for that.”
She slinks toward me like a prowling cat, her eyes trained on my lips. Her fingers tuck back a loose tuft of my hair and trace a path behind my ear while she rises up and straddles my waist. Her mouth finds mine, tentative at first, and she lowers herself onto me with a moan.
I’m already solid under her. If she keeps grinding her hips into me this way, kissing me this way, she’ll undo me within minutes. “Gwen.”
Her lips move to my neck, and I lean my head over the back of the couch, hungry for her affection. I grip her waist but let her control her movement. “I said don’t be weird.” She unbuttons the second button on my shirt and lets her hands in.
“Is it weird to have some questions about your answer?”
She pulls back, and her chest rises and falls as she narrows her eyes at me. “Normally I’d say no. But right now?” Her gaze shifts between my eyes and she rolls hers. She reaches for the champagne on the end table and takes a few gulps as she slides to my side. “Look. I wasn’t expecting any of this. Quite literally, any of it. Not you being here, not you being some…” she gestures a hand up and down my torso, “...I don’t know, some living statue of a Greek god or whatever all this is. I didn’t expect you to be decent—”
I don’t expect to be the one to resume the kiss, but I need her against me again. I want to taste her lips and her skin. I want everything.
She runs her hands up and down the length of my chest as her tongue tangos with mine. I reach to wrap my arms around her, but it’s not enough. I’m desperate for her now; I pull her over me again. She kneels, still lighting me on fire under the touch of her hands on my skin, and my hands slip to her thighs. Nothing feels as important right now as having her legs wrapped around my body.
When I stand up she lurches against me, tightening her legs around my waist, weaving her fingers into my hair and pulling, running her tongue along my throat. She guides me by the grip she has on my hair and leans back, lowering my face to her chest. I want to devour her.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I say, pressing a kiss into her cleavage.
“The hell we shouldn’t.”
