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An hour later, we’re settled in the middle of the bed with a statistics book splayed open in front of us. Demi pelts me nonstop with questions. The girl is relentless. It’s only one of the things I like about her.
“Ahhh...” I rack my brain for an answer. When one doesn’t immediately come to mind, I pull something from my ass and hope for the best. “I’ll take simple conditional probabilities for five hundred dollars, Alex.”
Demi narrows her eyes. “Wrong. It’s the ‘at least one rule’.”
I drag a hand over my face. “My brain is fried. I can’t do this anymore.”
Her expression softens as she reaches out and strokes a hand over my cheek. “You’re doing great. You’ll pull off a B for sure.”
“Um, hello? There’s no pulling off involved here. You’ve crammed all this useless information into my head. It has nowhere else to go but onto that test.”
She glances at the sports watch adorning her wrist. “We should study for at least another hour. It’s always better to be overprepared.”
I really hope she’s joking. That sounds fairly hellish. There’s only so much statistics I can take, and I’ve already reached my quota for the day. Probably the week. One look at her face tells me this girl is as serious as a heart attack.
A groan leaves my lips as I steeple my hands. “I’m begging you. No more. This is torture. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Please...no more statistics.”
She grows silent, almost contemplative, before offering an alternative. “Fine, how about we make this interesting?”
“Ha! Make stats interesting?” There’s a beat of silence. “Surely you jest.” I stretch out on the bed and fold my arms behind my head. “Let’s hear it. What do you have in mind?”
My muscles tense when a sparkle enters her eyes.
“How about, for every answer you get right, I’ll take off one item of clothing, and for every wrong one, you remove a piece. Whoever has the most at the end of ten questions wins.”
A grin slides across my face. “This sounds like a win-win situation for me.”
She arches a dark brow. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Yes, we definitely will.” I wipe the smile from my face and attempt to look serious as I get my game on. “All right, fire away.”
“How do you calculate the probability of combinations?”
I blow out a steady exhalation and search the dark recesses of my gray matter. After the last hour, it’s a pile of slush. But still...we’re talking about getting Demi naked here, so I need to dig deep and find my second wind. A full minute slides by as I carefully consider the merits of a few different answers before eventually discarding them.
“If you don’t know—”
“Give me a moment,” I grumble, unwilling to be rushed.
Damn, this is difficult.
Wait...I think I got it. “You need to consider the number of favorable outcomes over the number of total outcomes.” Right? That’s it...right? Or is it the other way around?
Shit. Now I’m not so sure.
“Yay!” A proud smile lights up Demi’s face. “You got it!”
Damn right, I did. Was there ever any doubt?
Don’t answer that.
I rub my hands together before pointing a finger at her. “Strip.”
She reaches for the elastic band that holds her hair in a ponytail.
“Oh, hell, no! You owe me one article of clothing! And that, my friend, is technically not considered clothing. It’s a thingy ma-bob.”
“A thingy ma-bob?”
“Yup, it’s a technical term.”
“Hmmm. Is that what we agreed to?” She narrows her eyes and taps her index finger against her lips. “Funny...I don’t remember that being specified in the rules.”
I narrow my eyes right back at her. Two can play this game. “You gonna renege already? Is that really how we’re going to start off?”
“Fine,” she grumbles, fingers drifting to the hem of her T-shirt before lifting it slowly up her toned belly. It’s enough to make my mouth go dry. The material rises until a hint of her black sports bra comes into view and then—
She drops the shirt back into place. When my questioning gaze flicks to hers, a grin flashes across her face as she lifts her hands, circling her nipples with her fingers until the little buds stand firmly at attention.
My eyes widen.
Holy fuck that is hot.
When she gives them a little pinch, my cock becomes unbearably hard, and I groan. “If stats doesn’t kill me, you will.”
A wicked smile curves her lips as her fingers fall to the hem of her shirt before yanking it off and dropping it onto the bed. “Ready for the next question?”
I couldn’t be more ready.
The sexy little maneuver replays in my head as I stare at her tits. What Demi did was way more tantalizing than the girl downstairs. “Yes, I am.” If I have my way, that sports bra will be the next to go.
