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“To what?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. It was difficult for him to keep his attention on the road with her smirking at him. “Pick a name for me.”
“Cordelia,” he suggested, laughing.
She grimaced. “And how is that any better?”
“Dulcinea.”
“Well,” she said as she raised her brows, “look at you being all cultured.”
They went through names, debating their merits and detractions. By the time they reached the off-ramp to Salt Lake, her eyes had brightened.
“I think Otis is my favorite so far,” she joked.
“Our neighbor had a dog named Otis. If we’re changing your name, we might have to train you not to lick people.”
“Yes, I’m a bad girl. I’m constantly jumping up on people too.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. There was no way she wasn’t flirting—not with her expression so naughty.
He frowned. “Bad dog.”
“The worst,” she agreed. “Be careful if I growl or I’m not wagging my tail.”
“Do you bite?”
When he looked at her, her cheeks were crimson.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Damn it. His cock was getting hard. A bit of teasing banter with a girl shouldn’t have done this to him, but the fact that making vaguely sexy jokes embarrassed her but she was doing it anyway made the game more fun.
“Oh, turn here,” she said, pointing to the right.
He pulled into the parking lot of the sporting-goods store Ophelia had found on her phone, feeling like an ass for almost driving right past it. Too busy talking.
Even if they weren’t camping tonight, they were both overdressed for walking around Glacier, and they needed more practical footwear.
“I picture you more as a princess than as a dog though,” he said, deciding that the dog jokes had gone far enough, especially since his next comeback was about leashes.
“A princess, huh? Should I be flattered or offended? And are you talking royalty, or spoiled brat?”
“Spoiled,” he said decisively. “Full of sass.”
“You think I’m sassy?” She even said it with a sassy look on her face. “Really?”
He parked the vehicle and unbuckled his seat belt, turning in the seat to grab his wallet from the console. She was watching him.
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe a little.”
He let a slow, interested smile spread across his face. Her eyes darted to one of his dimples and her lips parted slightly. Some girls were immune to them, but apparently not Ophelia.
Damn. His next line really wasn’t any better than the leash one had been, but it was coming out anyway. “I bet you weren’t spanked as a child.”
“I’ve never been spanked as an adult either,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes rounded, as though the words had been a mistake. Had she thrown in innuendo she hadn’t meant, or admitted something she didn’t want him to know?
“Never?” he said blandly, not wanting to spook her. The tension between them urged him to kiss her, but it felt soon for that. His cock was throbbing insistently, but he ignored it. “Are you vanilla?”
She shrugged. “I—don’t know. The kinkiest thing I’ve done is—” The sentence stopped, and her eyes went even wider, as though she was horrified with herself.
