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In two seconds, and a whirlwind, I found myself beneath Atticus, him straddling my waist; his hands pinned my wrists against the floor.
He smiled cunningly down at me.
I smiled sweetly back up at him.
“Well then why don’t you shoot me now?” he invited. “If you’re so confident—and so sure you could bring yourself to do it—shoot me now.” He leaned in once and brushed his lips across mine.
“Maybe I will.” I grinned.
“Then do it.” He released my right hand. “If you can reach my gun on the floor by the sofa, then by all means.”
“But I don’t need your gun,” I sassed.
“Really?”
I nodded my head against the floor in response.
“Well, I’m waiting,” he mocked. “Shoot me.”
I manipulated one corner of my bottom lip tensely between my teeth, trying to contain a smile.
He released my other hand, and pressed his palms flat against the floor beside my shoulders. Leaning over, he peered into my face, waiting, taunting me.
I raised my right hand between us, folded my three bottom fingers toward my palm, pointed my index finger straight out, my thumb straight up, then pointed the ‘barrel’ in the center of Atticus’ chest. I cocked my thumb and said in a nasally, high-pitched voice, “Pew! Pew!”
The grin vanished from Atticus’ face, promptly replaced by a frozen, unemotional stare. He just looked at me for a moment, blinking—(I never stopped smiling)—and then he threw his head back and roared with laughter. He fell off of me and onto the floor, and he laughed until there were tears in his eyes.
I sat upright next to him, laughing with him until there were tears in my eyes.
After the laughter faded, I laid down beside him; we stared up at the ceiling together. For a long time neither of us spoke.
“Atticus?” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Can you…” I broke off, too bashful to say it.
“Tell me,” he encouraged. “Can I what?”
My face flushing with heat, I buried my head between his armpit and his chest so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “Well…I wanted you to do that thing you did last night.” His hands squeezed my bottom more firmly.
“What did I do?”
“You know…”
“Well, I did a few things to you last night,” he said, kissing my head. “Which is it?” I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to, to know that he was grinning.
My cheeks were on fire; my lips were pressed into a hard line. I hated it that I was so embarrassed about these things!
“Of course I’ll do it. But are you sure there’s time? Jeffrey might surprise us and come back unexpectedly.”
“I think there’s time,” I answered, hoping that was true.
Atticus got up from the floor and crouched in front of me, fitting his fingers behind the elastic of my panties, and he slid them off.
“Is this what you were talking about?” he said as he spread me apart with his fingers.
Um…yes… He dipped his head between my legs, moving the tip of his tongue over me. I gasped sharply, but still could not answer out loud. Oh yes, Atticus…that’s it.
