He doesn’t answer. Instead, his brown eyes travel up and down my body. He smirks as he takes in my pink dress with white polka dots. The good-girl costume comes complete with a pink headband. I even curled the ends of my hair for the full-on sexy retro housewife look.
With an appreciative sigh, he loops his inked arm around my waist. “And your girl-next-door skirt is perfect for spanking you,” he whispers.
I tsk at him, wagging a finger. “Gabe, you have to behave,” I chide.
He narrows his eyes. Rubs his stubbled jaw against my cheek. “Whose ridiculous idea was that?”
“Yours,” I say, laughing. “You said we needed to practice being good.”
His fingers go exploring, taking a trip over my rear. He squeezes, rumbling out, “I know what I want to practice.”
“Patience,” I warn. “You can’t keep tempting me.”
He kisses my neck. “The fuck I can’t,” he whispers.
“Mmm. You’re trying to get me to give in on a golf course,” I murmur. “You want me to be the one to break character.”
“So I can have you on a golf course? Works for me,” he says, then explores the terrain of my neck, kissing up to my ear. “I want to see you give in to me. Want you to break first and saytake me home now.”
God, I feel like I’m ready to say that right this second.
But we can’t just jump into the sack. We made a deal to go to a party and behave. “Soon, soon,” I say.
With a huff, he lets go of me, then shakes his head like he’s resetting. He drags his hand through his thick, wavy hair, a little unkempt. The wild side of him can’t be fully tamed with clothes, and I love that the ink and messy hair are a peek into who he truly is—a little wild, a little dangerous around the edges.
He licks his lips. “Let’s play a game. Whoever gets the other to break first can pick the fantasy we’ll act out tonight.”
A hot spark sizzles down my chest. “I’ve never done role play before,” I confess quietly as a pack of teenage girls in midriff-baring tops rushes past us to the course.
“Me neither,” he says quietly, his eyes glimmering.
“But I want to,” I say, electrified already by the possibilities. Role play and I seem like a perfect fit.
“So do I,” he says, excited too.
“Then you’re on,” I say, offering a hand to shake.
Instead, he presses a kiss to the top of my hand. Then, he links his fingers through mine. As we walk toward the entrance, he looks down at our joined hands then drops a chaste kiss onto my cheek. “But holding hands with you is pretty nice too.”
I try to fight off a big grin, but it’s futile. “Sure is,” I say.
Hand-in-hand, in costume, we walk into the clubhouse.
After he pays for the game, we pick up clubs, balls, and a scorecard, and we head to the first hole where a windmill sweeps in circles.
He takes a few practice swings as I set my purple ball on a tee. “How was your day?”
For a second, I wonder if he’s trying to knock me off my golf game with small talk. So he can choose the fantasy. But the question comes out honestly. Curiously.
“It was excellent. I went to a sex-toy afternoon tea,” I say, faux primly.
He blinks. “I’m going to need to hear all about that,” he says.
“Well, let me just play this hole, and then I’ll tell you all about the latest in the world of pleasure,” I say.
“I think you’re trying to break me, Ellie Snow,” he says.
I give him a coy shrug. “Of course I am, Gabe,” I say, then nibble on the corner of my glossy lips.