Her fingertips grazed the cool wood of the pantry door, and she slid it open. “It’s not a mixed-company movie.” She grasped the flashlight, and mouthed athank youwhen it flipped on without hesitation. She trained the light on the candles, while Jonathan fetched a handful, and then they returned to the living room.
“You didn’t complain the first time we saw it.” He placed four candles around the room, lighting them as he went.
She flicked off the flashlight, and the flames cast long, dancing shadows along the walls. Despite the noise slamming into the house, the room got a cozy, almost surreal feeling. She sat on the couch again. “I didn’t know what I was walking into. I was humiliated that day, for your information.”
“And laughing your butt off. I remember.” He took the spot next to her, close enough his leg rested against hers. “Besides, I’m pretty sure—nope, I’m positive—you were the one telling me last night about how you spend your free time in Atlanta.”
Of course he’d bring that up. “That’s different.”
“How?”
Because you’re not there. “It just is.”
He nestled a finger under her chin and forced her head up. In the dim light, his eyes were so dark they looked black. She could sink into that gaze.
He licked his lips. “You didn’t have a problem with the company last night.” His words, smooth and confident, slid under her skin. “Riding my cock. Digging your nails into my arms. How could watching a stranger fuck a pie be more intimate?” His expression shifted to mischievous in an instant.
Her mind scrambled to keep up, but her insides weren’t having it. The shared moment in the shower filled her thoughts and sang in her nerves, teasing her with whispers of his skilled fingers roaming her body. She cleared her throat. “We can’t watch anything now, so it doesn’t matter.”
“There’s more to it. Isn’t there? You’ve got stories from band camp you kept to yourself.”
“I never went to band camp. My fourth grade teacher wouldn’t let me play the recorder, because I was out of tune. Those things can’t even be tuned, you know.”
He dragged his thumb along her jaw so lightly she wasn’t sure she felt it. “But you do have stories you’ve never told me.”
Some of them from the wicked thoughts she had after she watchedAmerican Pie. “Nope. I draw the line at sharing any level of detail about how I did or didn’t explore my body as a teenager.”
“I don’t want details.” He drew a finger up her arm, then along her neck, coaxing. “Simply names. Who were you thinking about when you did it?”
She raised her brows. “Celebrities. You.” The moment she said it, she wanted to take it back. Or did she?
“This is much better than a movie.”
She couldn’t argue. “I’m not going to be the only one spilling my secrets. You have to share too.”
“I didn’t agree to that.” He drew a light touch over patches of bare skin—the edge of her ear, the tips of her fingers, the back of her neck. Each new caress teased a little more.
“It’s only fair. And don’t tell melife’s not fair.”
“That night we kissed on the Fourth. The last time I saw you? I replayed that moment over and over again after I left.” His voice dropped an octave, and some of the playfulness faded from his face. “Not only the fight we had, though whenever I had a bad day, that was another mistake from my past that haunted me. I mean the kiss. No woman in college could ever compete with that memory.”
The confession stole her breath and fuzzed her thoughts. It wasn’t the words, but the way he said them. “Really?” That was intelligent.
“Cross my heart. Last night though, you were better.”
Embarrassment filled her, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t a conversation she was backing down from. Like yesterday, boldness pushed her to be direct with Jonathan—a hint of regret she couldn’t quite grasp and would rather ignore in favor of this moment. “I’ve had a little more practice.”
“Me too”—he stood, pulled her to her feet, and grabbed a nearby candle—“and I think we should introduce my old bed to how much more experienced we are. Give the springs a work out that’s more than a solo act.”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind watching your solo act.” She followed him up the stairs.
They reached the room, and he turned to face her. “That only works if we’re still sharing.” He tugged her inside and stopped short of the bed, then set the candle on the dresser. Long shadows danced along the wall. “Since we’re doing this wholeI’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
“That’s not quite what was going on.” Heat flooded her skin, scorching her from head to toe. The thinly veiled suggestion tantalized and terrified her.
“It’s an evolving process. We’ll run out of spoken secrets sooner or later. If we make the next logical step before that happens, problem solved.”
Speaking of steps...her mind was already skipping ahead several, taunting her with images. She didn’t know which excited her more—the idea of showing off for him or him being turned on by it. An old insecurity lay on top of it all, adding a layer of bitterness to the fantasy. Any response stalled in her throat.