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“No.” She shook her head and looked up at me. “I mean, why does it have to be wrong?”
“Because…” My words trailed off as I watched her watch me. There were a dozen different answers to that question, but could I think of a single one? Nope. Fuck my life. “Because I shouldn’t have touched you,” I finally settled on, heart thundering so hard in my chest I thought I might end up with a hematoma on my chest muscle. I knew all about hematomas. I’d had one on my back when I was thirteen. Never had one on the heart, though. Not until now, at least.
“But what if I wanted you to touch me last night,” she blew my world by saying. And then she fucked me over even further by catching ahold of my hand and backing up in the general direction of her bed, taking me with her. “What if I still want you to?”
Jesus. I had no answer to that other than to warn her, “That’s a really bad idea, Claire-Bear.”
“Shh,” she purred, reaching up to press a finger to my mouth, and then, because she seemed to be hell-bent on tormenting me, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt before swiftly whipping it over her head.
Oh shit.
Standing in front of me in nothing but a white bra and pink polka-dot knickers, Claire reached for my hand again, encouraging me to close the space between us.
I could only presume that the move was meant to be a seductive one, but when she miscalculated her step and landed in a heap on her bedroom floor instead of her mattress, I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “Nice.”
“It’s not funny, Gerard,” she croaked out from her perch on the floor. “Omigod.” Draping an arm over her face, she wailed in despair. “I was trying to be sultry!”
“Are you wearing Barbie knickers?”
“So not the point right now.” Groaning dramatically, she shook her head. “You can leave now.”
Smothering my laughter, I sank down on the carpet and reached for her hand. “Come on, don’t be hiding from me.”
“That was awful,” she complained, peeking up at me through her fingers. “I am so not sexy.”
“You so fucking are,” I corrected, pulling her hand away from her face once more. “But you’re even more adorable.”
She narrowed her eyes in disgust. “Kittens are adorable, Gerard.”
“Then you’re my little kitten.” I laughed, flopping onto my back next to her. “I like your ceiling,” I offered then, pointing to the ivory-colored plaster, as I reached for her hand. “It’s so much warmer than mine.”
“Your ceiling is the same color,” she sighed, entwining her fingers with mine. “At least it used to be.”
“Hmm.”
“Gerard?”
“Yeah, Claire-Bear?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
I turned my head to look at her. “Don’t be.”
“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh look. I’m cured.”
I smiled. “What can I do?”
“Uh, let’s see…” She pretended to ponder for a moment before saying, “How about you try to seduce me and fall on your ass instead?”
“Okay.”
“Get real, Gerard.”
I grinned. “You think I won’t?” Not giving her a chance to respond, I sprung to my feet and made a beeline for her stereo.
“Oh my god.” Claire laughed, hurrying onto her bed, when I whipped off my T-shirt and reached for her pink feather boa.
“You better make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,” I purred, flicking through songs and settling on “5, 6, 7, 8” from Steps. Snatching her sparkly pink cowboy hat off the dresser, I perched it on top of my head and winked. “Because you’re in for one hell of a treat.”
