After a few minutes of watching a fuzzyheaded Screech follow the gang around wearing enormous goggles, he finally asks, “Are all American high schools like this?”
“This is as true to American high schools as Disney is to princes.”
“Touché.”
We resume silently watching, when I notice two fingers wiggling beneath my palm. My eyes flicker down to where Cal is doing a not-so-sneaky job trying to hold my hand.
He sees me catch him and laughs. “Give me that remote.” He puts his glass down before snatching the black rectangle from my hand. Channels flicker past like a kaleidoscope, until he stops on one. Woody Harrelson is at a craps table with a group of partying ladies. “This is more like it.”
It takes a moment to realize what it is. “Indecent Proposal?” My nose wrinkles as I finish my glass. “Gag.”
“Don’t tell me you hate movies.”
“I love movies. I hate stupid ones that are totally unbelievable and rely on such obvious emotional pandering to attract viewers.”
“Big words, Miss Benedict. I think you really love it.”
“I do not!” I dive for the remote, but he laughs and leans back, putting us chest to chest, with me on top.
“Hmm…” He slides a hand under my tee and over the bare skin of my lower back. Chills skate across my arms, and my entire body heats. “I think you like this.”
Lowering my forehead to his chest, I hesitate only a moment before pushing myself out of his arms and sitting on the opposite side of the small sofa. I’m flustered and horny, and my brain feels swirly.
We watch Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson lose round after round on the roulette table until all their money is gone, and Moore starts to cry.
“Idiots,” I grumble. “Roulette is the worst game you can play in a casino. It has the highest odds in favor of the house, and they increase with every spin. Why didn’t they quit and go back to craps?”
Cal chuckles from the other end of the sofa, and I look down to see him watching me. “You know a lot about gambling.”
Whoops. I blink fast trying to find an excuse. “My dad liked to gamble.”
“Liked?” He pushes to a sitting position and slides closer to where I’m perched.
“He died when I was really young.”
Warm hands go around my waist, and Cal
pulls me onto his lap, facing him in a straddle. Only, I won’t meet his eyes. I keep my head turned, my gaze fixed on the television.
“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing a fiery kiss to the base of my neck.
Clearing my throat, my breath comes faster. “It was a long time ago,” I manage to whisper.
His arms are at my waist, and his kisses move up the side of my neck until he’s at my ear. “Still, I’m sorry you lost your dad. I know how that feels.”
My whole body shivers, and I try to pull away. His arms only tighten around me. “Where are you going?”
“Cal…”
I feel his arousal hard against my thigh. My hands hold his biceps, and we’re nose to nose, sharing our breath. He looks deep into my eyes.
“Let’s say you and me do some good old-fashioned fucking, Zelda Benedict.”
I blink fast, away from his gaze. “I can’t,” I whisper, even though my insides are liquid, and my lips heavy with desire.
“Sure you can,” he whispers, leaning forward to cover my mouth with his.
Fingers thread into the sides of my hair, and his kiss is even more passionate than before. It’s hungry and demanding, and I’m losing the fight this time.