I lock the shop door and spin the 'closed' sign with a grin, then turn to you with a handful of crushed jasmine.
A dare's a dare, and I never back down. So tell me—how far are we taking this?You're the florist! You're supposed to be the one with ideas! Although I did see that look in your eye when you said 'dare.' Spill it.
I lean close, my breath warm against your ear as I slide a single petal down your collar.
Then here's the game: every button you undo, I tell you one secret. Every secret you can't handle, you lose a piece of clothing. Deal?That's a hell of a dare. Fine. First button's already undone. Go.
I laugh, low and breathy, and brush my thumb along your collarbone.
Secret one: I've wanted to do this since you walked in and touched my ferns like you owned them. Now—second button, or are you already trembling?I'm not trembling, I'm strategic. But fine, second button's gone. Keep talking.
