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A little too quickly, he thought.
“When was the last time someone told you a dirty story?” he asked, his voice dropping low. “A story so na
ughty you wanted to slip your hand under your clothes and touch yourself?”
“Never.”
“Do you dare me to try?”
“Yes,” she said in a soft, breathy tone he’d never heard her use while tending bar. “I want the chance to prove you wrong. This won’t work. And I want an original, not a recycled story that you used to talk your way into some girl’s pants.”
“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. She’d been right in the car when she said most women fell easily into his bed. But Natalie was far from easy. And damn if that didn’t turn him on.
“You’re a storytelling virgin?” she teased.
“I am.” He sat up, resting his back against the headboard fixed to the motel room wall. “Now, lie on your back and close your eyes. I promise I’ll be more entertaining than the girls fighting on TV.”
He waited until her outline shifted in the darkness, the covers moving over her body. Beneath the thin motel blanket, she wore sweatpants and a baggy gray Navy T-shirt that looked like it had once been a part of Cade’s limited wardrobe. The minute she’d walked out of the bathroom, he’d wanted her out of those clothes.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s hear your story.”
He stared into the darkness and waited for inspiration to hit him over the head. Shit, he knew how to drive a woman wild in bed and out. But he usually took the hands-on approach to foreplay.
He drew a deep breath and began. “Once upon a time, there was a sexy as hell bartender who’d hidden her secret desires for way too long. Sailors, soldiers, and a handful of guys dropped by her bar, chatting and flirting with her. You see, this bartender had long black hair that shone under the bar’s dim lights. And every customer who walked through the door noticed the way her jeans hugged her perfect ass. Those men dreamed about touching her, but they knew she’d scare the shit out of them if they tried. This bartender could take down men twice her size with a single pointed look—”
“Because they knew I wouldn’t let them in the door when I was working if they caused trouble,” she muttered.
“Hell yeah, they knew,” he said, the mental picture of the story that was part fantasy, part reality forming in his mind. “But that didn’t stop them from picturing this bartender stripped down.”
“You’re trying to seduce me by telling me every guy who comes into my bar has wondered what I look like naked?”
“I’m trying to tell you a bedtime story. You’re interrupting,” he said. He paused, waiting for another sharp retort. And…nothing. So he continued, “But these men never stopped to think about her secret fantasies. One day a SEAL walked into the bar, took one look at her, and he knew. He vaulted over the bar, took her by the hand, and led her to the back room. After he barricaded the doors with a table to make damn sure her fantasy didn’t turn into a crazy threesome in a Jell-O pit—”
Natalie laughed softly. The sound teased his hard-on and left him wishing she’d slip out of her bed and into his. But first, he had to turn her husky laugh into a needy moan.
“He grabbed a black silk sash from the wall and ordered the bartender to strip. Her clothes hit the floor.”
“Jack, there aren’t any silk ties in the back room. And I don’t have a secret desire—”
“Shh, it’s my first time,” he said. “Don’t rush me. Let me tell the whole story. I was just getting to the good part.”
He slid one hand beneath the blanket. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers when he’d climbed into bed to make her feel comfortable. Now, he slipped his hand under the elastic band and gripped the part of his body that freaking loved the mental picture of Natalie tossing her clothes to the ground.
He heard a soft moan from the other bed and his hand froze. He hoped like hell she’d slipped her hands under the covers, too. “Still with me, Natalie?”
“Sorry,” she said. “Please continue.”
“When the bartender stood naked, her bare tits—uh, breasts—”
“You can say tits, Jack,” she said with a laugh.
He’d say whatever she told him to if it turned her on. Right now, he had his own hand wrapped around his dick. And that wasn’t how he wanted this night to end.
“He ordered her to climb up on the steel table,” he continued. “The bartender obeyed, reaching her arms overhead. He pulled three more silk ties from the wall and walked over to her. Then he grabbed hold of her ankles and drew her to the table’s edge, spreading her legs wide. He moved to the other side, tied the silk around her wrists, and secured the fabric to the table legs. He thought about doing the same with her legs, but he left her free to plant her feet on the table. Or wrap her legs around him.”
“Jack,” she gasped.
Dammit, he wished he could see her face. Were her cheeks flushed from his words? And where the hell were her hands?
