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“Hardly,” I counter, grabbing a second pretzel and popping it into my mouth.
“Besides, it’s not like guys keep things hidden in their panty drawer like women do,” she mutters, sliding the pretzel into the peanut butter once more and taking a bite.
My brain grabs on to her statement and refuses to let go. “Wait, what did you have hidden in your panty drawer that you didn’t want me to see?”
The cutest blush creeps up her neck. “Nothing,” she insists quickly.
“That’s my question, Cupcake. I want to know what you didn’t want me to see.”
Her blue eyes narrow. “You jumped your turn. It’s my question. You have to drink,” she states, sliding the shot glass my way.
I hold her gaze and down the liquid before reaching for the bottle and refilling the glass. “You still have to answer,” I tell her, sliding the glass in her direction.
She takes the glass and, while maintaining eye contact, tosses it back and hisses as the tequila slides down her throat. “Damn, that’s good. Not as much burn as I expected.”
“It’s the good stuff straight from Mexico,” I tell her as she refills the shot glass, wondering why she took the shot at all. It wasn’t her turn.
“I didn’t have anything in the drawer. I had moved it.”
“It? What was it?” I ask with a big grin.
Hallie glances around, as if looking to see if anyone else is listening, and leans in. “A small pink vibrator named Little Richard.”
My cock weeps with joy.
A gargled laugh flies from my mouth as I do all I can to ignore the images her reply creates. I even reach over and take the shot of tequila, praying it helps cool my suddenly too-hot body. Of course, it doesn’t. It only helps amp it up even more.
“What about you? Got anything hidden in your panty drawer you don’t want me to see?”
I snort at her question. “My panty drawer? I don’t have panties, Cupcake.”
She waves her hand. “Fine, fine. Got anything in your manly underwear drawer you don’t want me to see?”
“Like?” I inquire, raising an eyebrow.
She seems to ponder her own question. “Porn? Dirty magazines? Oh! Do you have a giant sexy toy stash somewhere? I’ve always wondered if you were the secret Dom type. Quiet in public but totally take-charge in the bedroom. Do you have handcuffs or a flogger?”
I choke on the air I’m breathing. “A flogger?”
“Yeah, a flogger,” she says. “I’ll take this shot right now if you have a flogger in your bedroom.”
A gravelly chuckle slides from my mouth as my brain starts to feel a little fuzzy from the booze. “Sorry, Cupcake. No flogger in there.”
“Damn,” she mutters, taking the shot glass and throwing it back.
I reach for the bottle and glass, moving them away from her at this point. She’s had two shots of strong tequila, and she definitely doesn’t need any more. “You should head back and try to get some sleep,” I suggest, even though my dick doesn’t agree.
She leans forward, invading my personal space as she whispers, “But we didn’t get to any dares.”
I almost groan but bite it back at the last second. This woman has no idea how much of a temptress she is. Seeing her standing in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, after lying in my bed, is putting all sorts of bad ideas in my head. “Maybe next time,” I suggest as the warmth of the alcohol starts to roll its way through my blood.
“There’s gonna be a next time? Are you asking me to sleep over again, Johnson?”
The corner of my mouth curls up as I gently grip the counter to keep from reaching for her. “Only if you’re ever drunk, lose your keys, and need a place to crash.”
She tsks, reaching for the shot glass. I watch as she spins it with her fingers, her eyes watching the liquid inside. I can practically see her brain spinning, deep in thought, and the moment she looks up with determination and challenge in her eyes, I know I’m in deep fucking trouble.
“One little dare before we call it a night?” she whispers softly, batting those baby blues my way.
