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“Like what?” A spark of interest ignited in his eyes.
Ugh. Good question.
“Bite you?” I twisted my mouth uncertainly.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Litvin.”
“I’ll sing! You’ve never known pain until you hear me belt out ‘Hello’ by Adele. I try to hit all those high and low notes. I also do the echoes, for full effect.”
He was fighting a grin, and satisfaction filled my chest because I had almost made him smile and nothing made this man genuinely smile. Not even the supermodels he was flaunting all over the globe.
“Say the magic word, Dot, and I’ll set you free.”
“Plea—”
“Nah. Our magic word. The one we came up with together.”
Oh shit. He was doing that whole routine we’d used to do growing up. Whenever Dylan was busy and I was bored, I would wander into his room and rummage through his stuff. If he caught me—which he rarely did, because he was always out doing big, lovely Row things—we would grapple until he would inevitably press me against his bed or the floor and have me beg him for mercy. Only I hadn’t used the word please. I had used another word that used to make him laugh.
What the hell was the word? Think, Cal, think!
“Asshole?” I let loose a snarky smile. I knew what would happen if I didn’t say the word.
He exhaled somberly, like a disappointed teacher. “Not the first hole I have in mind, but I’ll take it. Two more shots.”
“Banana?” I remembered it was some type of fruit. Or maybe a vegetable? It was definitely food related.
He shook his head again. “Nope, but I see where your mind is going, and I’m not mad about it.” His dick twitched between my legs. Okay. Yeah. This was definitely one hell of a welcome back.
Also—I wasn’t half as freaked out about what was happening right now as I should have been.
“Give me a clue,” I demanded, wriggling. “Is it a fruit or a vegetable?”
“Fruit,” he said stoically.
Pear? Passionfruit? Guava?
“Give me another clue.” The weight of him was delicious. To the point my mouth watered, my nipples puckered, and I was ninety-nine percent sure I was on the verge of a mini-orgasm.
“Nice try. You didn’t deserve the first one.”
Fair point. Too bad we were chafing everywhere and an insistent, tingly pressure mounted in my core. Something that horrifyingly resembled the Big O. And I’m not talking about Queen Oprah.
“One more chance to get it right, Dot. What’s our magic word?”
“Mango!” I tossed the word in his face, flustered.
“Wrong answer.” His voice was calm, flat, and resolute. “The word you were looking for was tomato.”
“You said it was a fruit!”
“Tomato is a fruit.”
“How can it be a fruit if you put it in salads? Fruits are fun.”
“So is payback,” Row deadpanned. “Enjoy.”
He used his free hand to tickle my armpits and neck, feathery fingers skimming all my delicate areas, and my writhing became violent, frantic thrashing. I was the most ticklish person on planet Earth. It was a medical condition. I could pee myself. I swung upward, trying to bite him in retaliation. “Let go of me!”
