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He raised a brow. “You don’t want me to have it?”
“That’s not the point!”
“It’s exactly the point.”
“No, it—” She cut herself off. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“I have been told that a time or two.” He paused, then said, “So I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Uh, no, thanks.” She moved to stand up, but he pressed her back into the seat.
“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”
“Yeah, well, when a guy says those words to a girl he hardly knows, it usually ends with her chained in a basement somewhere while he maps out patterns to make a dress from her skin.”
“Wow!” He cracked up. “Suspicious much?”
“I’ve seen Silence of the Lambs. I know how these things work.”
“It appears that you do. But, sadly, I have no basement. And no handcuffs. And no deep-seated psychopathology, at least not that I know of. Also, I don’t have a clue how to sew. So, you’re probably safe.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She eyed him with mock suspicion. “So what exactly is this proposition of yours?”
“That I keep your phone number, even though you aren’t exactly overjoyed that I’ve got it. And I promise that I won’t call you until you call me first. Fair?”
“What if I never call you?”
“Then I’ll be very sad, but I promise I won’t bother you with harassing phone calls. Deal?”
She thought about it for a moment, thought about whether or not she would ever want to talk to him again once this night was over. And decided, what the hell. She might as well leave the option open. If she didn’t want to use it, well, then, he was giving her the perfect opportunity to walk away, no harm, no foul.
“Deal,” she told him.
“Excellent.” He smiled, then reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Involuntarily, her eyes were drawn to his very enticing six-pack and the V-cut that peeked out of the top of his low-slung jeans. She locked her jaw and, for the second time that night, tried not to drool.
She must not have been very successful, though, because his voice was amused a few seconds later when he asked, “See something you like?”
“I like you.” The words were out before she had a clue she was going to say them. The second it registered that she’d actually spoken what she’d only planned to think, she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
She wanted to take them back, wanted to pretend she hadn’t just screwed up everything by letting her tongue—and her emotions—get away from her. But it was too late. The words hung there in the air between them, like a bomb waiting to go off.
He didn’t look horrified by her admission, though. Didn’t look as if he was about to duck and cover in an effort to avoid the shrapnel from the bomb she had just dropped. In fact, Nic looked absolutely delighted, as though she’d given him a present…or the best orgasm of his life.
Which wasn’t so far-fetched when she thought about it. He’d certainly done that for her, after all.
Before she could think of something—anything—to say that might work as damage control, he closed the small distance between them. He turned her stool around so that she was facing him, then moved closer still, until he was nestled between the V of her spread legs.
“I like you, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then another one to her cheek and yet another one to her lips.
“Do you?” she asked, tilting her head back so he could skim his lips along the side of her neck.
“I do. And since we’ve established that you like me as well…” His hands went to the buttons of the too-big shirt she was wearing. His shirt, she thought dazedly as he slipped the first two buttons through their holes then gently skimmed his knuckles along the undersides of her breasts. “I think we should maybe head back to my bedroom and like each other some more.”
“Like each other some more?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady despite the heat arcing through her like a lightning storm. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
He laughed. “It’s what I’m calling it. Sorry. I know it’s not very romantic, but my brain pretty much stops working the second I touch you.”
She was charmed by the admission despite herself. Determined to keep things light after the confession she’d had no intention of making, she told him, “I guess it’s all right if your brain isn’t working, as long as other parts of your anatomy are.”
