“A game?”
A shiver racks my body as his breath stirs my hair. I open my eyes and stare directly into his. “A game. We each take turns asking questions we’ll have to answer. But no details. Nothing that will give away who we are.”
“Right.” He looks dubious.
“And we drink. Each time you ask or answer a question, you drink.”
He chuckles. “Well, we better sit down for this, then.”
He takes my hand. The zing that sparked in my body the first time he touched me is back in full force as he guides me to that luxurious sofa of his and sits us down.
“I should probably start.” I take a sip of my drink, letting the amber liquid burn my throat. “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“I thought you were going to go easy on me to start with.” He drinks from his glass as I shake my head playfully. “A fighter jet pilot. I loved airplanes and always wanted to fly them.”
“Fighter jets?”
“Drop bombs on enemy countries. Be a hero.”
“So a hero then,” I smile.
“A fighter jet pilot. A hero was just a by-product. What about you?”
“I wanted to be a ballerina, but I’ve always been too chunky.” I shrug. “Plus, I have zero coordination. It would have been like watching Miss Piggy do acrobatics.”
“I think you’re perfect,” he says, making me blush. “Do you really not know who I am?”
“You’re the boss of the company I delivered the wrong batch of cookies to,” I say, taking another drink. “I don’t want to know more. What’s your greatest fear?”
He rubs his chin in thought. “That I have let life pass me by. I’ve been so focused on my career, on making a name for myself, that I never stopped to enjoy anything that matters… Until now.”
“You’re enjoying things that matter now?”
“I have a distinct feeling that you matter. I’m trying to listen to my instincts.” His eyes are focused on mine as if he’s trying to send me a message. “What about you? What’s your greatest fear?”
“Men like you,” I whisper, unable to stop myself. “With your good looks and pretty words.”
“Men like me… I like to think I’m not like all the rest.”
“You see, it’s words like that. They make it worse.”
“Maybe with time, you’ll believe them.” He places his hand on my thigh as I down the rest of my drink.
“What if I told you we don’t have time? We only have tonight. Here, now.”
“Then I’d ask you one more question.”
“Drink then.”
He swigs the rest of his drink in one go. “Tell me, what do you want?”
“That’s a loaded question and not a very specific one. I want many things,” I reply, sliding closer to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull he has on me.
“Okay, then. What do you want from me? Tonight?”
“Just your time,” I lick my lips.
He leans closer. “My time?”