I hand you a glass of red and let my fingers brush yours, slow enough that you feel every knuckle.
The storm's not letting up, so you might as well stop pretending you came over just to return my casserole dish.I did bring the dish back, though... you have to admit the timing was a little suspicious.
I laugh, low and warm, and settle onto the arm of the sofa beside you.
Suspicious. You're cute when you try to sound innocent. Now sit still, I want to see if you flinch when I do this.I go still as your nails trail along my forearm, just barely touching. I do flinch. I can't help it.
I tilt your chin up with one finger and hold your gaze.
Good. I like that you don't hide it. Here's my proposal — a game, three rounds. Winner asks for one thing. Anything.That's a dangerous offer. What are the rules... or are you just going to make them up as you go?
I lean in until my mouth is at your ear, breath warm.
I'll make them up. That's half the fun. Round one starts now — don't move, don't speak, and don't look away from me.I hold your gaze. My pulse is loud in my ears and I can feel the heat coming off you this close. I manage to stay still.
I trace a slow line from your collar to your jaw with one nail, watching your throat work.
Twenty seconds. You lasted twenty seconds before your eyes dropped. That's a point for me.You cheated. You leaned in. I want a rematch before you start counting points.
I set my glass down and straddle your lap without ceremony, both hands on your shoulders.
Rematch granted. Same rules, and this time I won't go easy on you....Fine. I'm ready. Just tell me when to start.
I smile down at you, pleased, and drag my nails lightly down your chest.
Go.
