“Uh, what do you want, a show of good faith?”
“That’s the way it worked during childhood, right? You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”
Oh, she wanted to see his. She blew out a breath and averted her gaze from the smug set of his lips, landing on the wood-paneled ceiling again. “Before this goes too far, you should know I don’t have condoms on me.”
He shifted, removing his hands from the bed near her face, and when she turned a questioning gaze to him, he was easing away from edge of the bed. She mourned his departure, wanted him back between her thighs and thought perhaps she’d thrown ice water on things with her statement.
No, he bent and picked up his jeans, patting the pockets until he found his wallet. “I always keep a couple in here.” He clamped the two foil packets between his teeth as he returned the wallet to its former location.
No excuses, then. She sat up and thought about good-faith gestures as she heeled off her boots. What would he like to see first? Breasts?
Too easy. Of course he likes tits.
Thighs, then. She locked her gaze on his green one as she slid her slacks’ fastener open.
That former fixation he’d had on her chest shifted to her waist, his lips pressed into a flat line, him standing very still as she unzipped. Someone could probably drop a bomb outside and he wouldn’t move. “Hey, Paddy? What color are my panties?” She held her hand over the flap, shielding his sight from a glimpse of her lace.
“Panties?” His eyes didn’t move.
“Yes, what color do you think they are?”
She watched a lump travel down his throat. When he didn’t answer, she dragged one socked foot up the inside of his leg and jostled his balls.
That woke him up.
“Panties, Paddy. What color?” Her big toe traced a circle around his sack and his lips peeled back as he hissed.
He wrapped one large hand around her ankle, stilling her. “What happens if I’m wrong?”
It was a good question, and one she didn’t actually have an answer for. Best she make something up. “If you’re wrong…” she mused, tapping her index finger on her chin. “I won’t let you peel them off me using your teeth.”
That earned her a scoff. “Sweetheart, with the way I’m feeling right now, you don’t want my teeth anywhere near you.”
The little wet spot at the front of his boxer briefs seemed good enough evidence of such. He must have been hard as steel and she wondered what he’d feel like inside her, probing deep things that hadn’t been stoked in who-knew-how-long.
“Why don’t you let me decide that? You up to date on all your shots, kitty?” She wriggled her toes, but his grip was too steady. Still couldn’t reach anything of consequence.
“You’re waiting on me to tell you that you picked something dull or predictable. White. Black. Nude.”
She stilled her face to a blank and tried for coolness, even as her heart pounded and blood pressure rose. He’d done it again. Read her like an open book.
“You like having little secrets. Things you never plan to tell anyone else, but that give you a little power because secrets are potent things.”
Funny, she wasn’t feeling so powerful all of a sudden.
He eased her foot to the floor. “I think you prefer solids over patterns, so that makes it easier.”
The small amount of personal space between them vanished as he leaned in over her, placing one hand at either side of her hips and grazing her left earlobe with his lips. “You may like your booze the color God intended, but I’d bet my pub your panties are shamrock green today.”
She swallowed and her vision—normally hyper-sharp—suddenly went a bit blurry. It took her a moment to realize she’d crossed her eyes.
One of his large, warm hands wrapped around hers and gently moved it from her zipper. With one little bend of the fabric, he confirmed his hunch. “It’s a good color for you.”
Somehow, she figured out how to breathe again. “Uh,
“That’s the way it worked during childhood, right? You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”
Oh, she wanted to see his. She blew out a breath and averted her gaze from the smug set of his lips, landing on the wood-paneled ceiling again. “Before this goes too far, you should know I don’t have condoms on me.”
He shifted, removing his hands from the bed near her face, and when she turned a questioning gaze to him, he was easing away from edge of the bed. She mourned his departure, wanted him back between her thighs and thought perhaps she’d thrown ice water on things with her statement.
No, he bent and picked up his jeans, patting the pockets until he found his wallet. “I always keep a couple in here.” He clamped the two foil packets between his teeth as he returned the wallet to its former location.
No excuses, then. She sat up and thought about good-faith gestures as she heeled off her boots. What would he like to see first? Breasts?
Too easy. Of course he likes tits.
Thighs, then. She locked her gaze on his green one as she slid her slacks’ fastener open.
That former fixation he’d had on her chest shifted to her waist, his lips pressed into a flat line, him standing very still as she unzipped. Someone could probably drop a bomb outside and he wouldn’t move. “Hey, Paddy? What color are my panties?” She held her hand over the flap, shielding his sight from a glimpse of her lace.
“Panties?” His eyes didn’t move.
“Yes, what color do you think they are?”
She watched a lump travel down his throat. When he didn’t answer, she dragged one socked foot up the inside of his leg and jostled his balls.
That woke him up.
“Panties, Paddy. What color?” Her big toe traced a circle around his sack and his lips peeled back as he hissed.
He wrapped one large hand around her ankle, stilling her. “What happens if I’m wrong?”
It was a good question, and one she didn’t actually have an answer for. Best she make something up. “If you’re wrong…” she mused, tapping her index finger on her chin. “I won’t let you peel them off me using your teeth.”
That earned her a scoff. “Sweetheart, with the way I’m feeling right now, you don’t want my teeth anywhere near you.”
The little wet spot at the front of his boxer briefs seemed good enough evidence of such. He must have been hard as steel and she wondered what he’d feel like inside her, probing deep things that hadn’t been stoked in who-knew-how-long.
“Why don’t you let me decide that? You up to date on all your shots, kitty?” She wriggled her toes, but his grip was too steady. Still couldn’t reach anything of consequence.
“You’re waiting on me to tell you that you picked something dull or predictable. White. Black. Nude.”
She stilled her face to a blank and tried for coolness, even as her heart pounded and blood pressure rose. He’d done it again. Read her like an open book.
“You like having little secrets. Things you never plan to tell anyone else, but that give you a little power because secrets are potent things.”
Funny, she wasn’t feeling so powerful all of a sudden.
He eased her foot to the floor. “I think you prefer solids over patterns, so that makes it easier.”
The small amount of personal space between them vanished as he leaned in over her, placing one hand at either side of her hips and grazing her left earlobe with his lips. “You may like your booze the color God intended, but I’d bet my pub your panties are shamrock green today.”
She swallowed and her vision—normally hyper-sharp—suddenly went a bit blurry. It took her a moment to realize she’d crossed her eyes.
One of his large, warm hands wrapped around hers and gently moved it from her zipper. With one little bend of the fabric, he confirmed his hunch. “It’s a good color for you.”
Somehow, she figured out how to breathe again. “Uh,
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