“Exactly.” I nod, hopeful that this ask will be easier than I anticipated. “That’s why I think we should find an alternate location, a place where we won’t risk running into people we know.” I fish my phone out of the front pocket of my backpack. “I did a little googling on the way here. There’s a hotel in the Bronx that’s affordable and has decent reviews. Maybe we could meet there, next time? I know it’s kind of a hassle, but if we plan a few days ahead, I’m sure I can get a room. And I’ll pay for it, so you don’t have to—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he cuts in. “And we’re not going to a cheap hotel in the Bronx. I’ll get us something nice for Friday night.”
“Are you sure? I mean, this is my idea, and I don’t mind paying.”
“No way. I think it’s a good idea, too, and I have more disposable income than you do. I’m happy to make that happen, but…” He leans forward, his forearms braced on his knees as he asks in a softer voice, “Does that mean you want a rain check for tonight?”
I shake my head. “No. I think we’re safe for tonight. Don’t you?”
“I do,” he murmurs. “And I’ve been looking forward to playing hangman with you. Like we used to. Remember?”
I frown even as a smile stretches across my lips. “Um, yes, I do. But…”
He arches a brow. “But what?”
“I was expecting something a little sexier than hangman.”
His eyes dance. “Are you saying you don’t think I can make hangman a sexy experience?”
“I bet you can make just about anything a sexy experience,” I say, my skin beginning to tingle again, just from holding his gaze across the coffee table. “Okay, hangman it is. I have paper and pencils in my art bag.”
“Nope, I’ve got that covered,” he says, bouncing to his feet and crossing to the desk against the far wall. “I’ve already prepped the first word.” He turns back to me, yellow legal pad and pencil in hand. “But first, we should go over the rules.”
“I know the rules to hangman.”
“But this isn’t ordinary hangman, Feisty,” he says. “This is strip hangman. Every time you guess a wrong letter, an item of clothing has to come off. The first one down to their underwear is the loser.”
I bite my lip, delighted by this twist on our old childhood game. “All right. I’m game. What’s the category?”
“Foods to lick off of your lover.” He turns the pad to face me as he sits down a few inches away from me on the couch, making me keenly aware of the warmth of his big body and how amazing he smells. I don’t know if it’s just the soap he uses or what, but Ian always smells so damned good.
The combination of his yummy scent and the thought of licking something tasty off his skin is enough to make my nipples tighten, making me wish I’d worn something thicker than the bralette I threw on in the studio bathroom.
I’m pretty sure my nipples are visible through my dress, but before I can discreetly glance down to check, Ian says in a husky voice, “And if you’re interested, I might have a few lick-worthy foods in my fridge we can experiment with later.”
“I am very interested,” I say in a voice that makes Ian’s eyes darken.
“Are you sure you need seduction practice?” he asks. “Or is this just your way of driving me crazy for your pussy?”
I bite back a smile as I shrug. “I don’t know. But we should definitely find out.”
“Hell, yes, we should,” he says, holding my gaze as he says, “Two words. First word is five letters, second word is six.”
I glance down at the pad he’s holding up for me to study, even though I’m suddenly finding it hard to concentrate on anything but him.
His silky brown hair hanging down nearly into his eyes in that way that makes me want to brush it to one side and kiss his forehead. His eyes burning into mine, making promises I know he’ll keep if I’m brave enough to let him. His powerful body with those big hands that bring me to life in ways no one else ever has and he hasn’t even touched any of my “sexy zones” yet.
If he does…
When he does…
I’m not backing down from this challenge, and neither is he. He wants me. I can see it in his eyes. Maybe not as much as I want him—he’s experienced, after all, and already knows what sex is all about—but he’s definitely interested. He isn’t doing this because he feels sorry for me.
He’s doing this because he wants to touch me, which gives me the confidence to shift closer to him on the couch as I lean in and whisper, “I.”