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She laughs and pinches my arm, the throaty sound hitting me straight between the legs. My cock stirring at a modest touch sets off a bunch of alarms I choose to ignore.
“Who says I do that to begin with?” Her dimples pop as she smiles at me.
I give her a pointed look, silently telling her not to insult my intelligence. “A man like me senses these things. You being a single woman in your early twenties with no boyfriend means you gets off somehow.”
“One: how do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”
“I think your list gives you away. If you did have a boyfriend, please dump him because if he can’t make you come from oral sex, he’s not worthy.”
Sophie laughs to the point of coughing. “Okay. Good point. Well, I created my list because I got tired of university boys disappointing me and barely living my life outside of the library. I saw some bucket lists, got drunk while writing mine, and here I am.”
What really sticks out to me and my dick is how she mentions university idiots.“What type of guys did you date in college?”
“None since I wouldn’t count a few dates as ‘dating’ really.” She sighs.
Sounds like a sore subject for Little Miss Perfect over here.
“Please tell me they got the job done, at least?” I clench my hands while I wait for her answer, battling between wanting to know and not all at the same time. What the fuck is going on with me?
Her sudden intake of breath tells me that she knows what I mean. “Nope.”
“I must apologize for men everywhere and make it up to you with multiple orgasms and kisses that leave you breathless. Say the words and I’ll be your humble servant who makes it my job to help you.” I give her a little bow before popping back up again. The ice around my heart chips away at the small smile she sends my way, breathtaking yet cautious, reaching her alluring eyes.
Alluring eyes? Damn, Liam, go get your balls back.
“As enticing as your offer sounds, you need to keep your no-no square to itself. Thanks, though.”
Of course, I should listen and keep to myself, but my brain enjoys the tug-of-war going on inside of me. I battle between not becoming another sleazy gossip headline while wanting to spend more time with Sophie.
Maybe I’m lonelier than I realize. A potentially terrible idea hits me out of nowhere, but it seems like a decent plan.
“I want to add something to your list.” I bet she has it on her, stuffed away in her purse, her dirty secret following her wherever she goes.
Her eyes blink back at me a few times.
“Go on a date with a bad boy.” I shoot her a wide smile.
“No way. We’re not messing up the list. It’s already typed, so no can do. Better luck next time. Maybe with someone else who wants your help.” She shakes her head rather aggressively.
I intertwine my fingers with hers on the handrail. Warmth trails up my arm to my chest, an unrecognizable sensation possibly due to a few too many vodka straights clouding my head and my judgment. My thumb runs over her knuckles in a mindless pattern matching her shallow breathing.
“Seems like you’re scared of going on a date. Are you not sure you’ll be able to control yourself around me?” I want to poke the rebel inside of her. For whatever reason, I’m not sure. Maybe for the fun of it or maybe to see what happens once she finally lets loose.
My hand squeezes hers before letting go. I turn toward her, my hand retreating into my suit’s pocket.
Her eyes narrow. “No, I’m not scared of you. Some people happen to be immune to your charms. Shocker, I know. I should consider myself lucky, unable to be moved by the ultimate heartbreaker.”
Shit, I’d like to kiss the smirk right off her face. Immune, my ass. “Heartbreaker, huh? Are you reading articles about me? Don’t tell me you’ve been obsessed with me since we first met. I’m not into stalkers, but I could make an exception for you.”
She presses a palm against her chest, batting her lashes. “You caught me. I was biding my time, hoping we’d run into each other years later. I thought we’d walk off into the sunset by now, but maybe Disney was off with the timing. Their wooing period for romances usually lasts a weekend, tops.”
Damn, my face hurts from smiling so hard. “Say yes to a date, and maybe our timeline will move up. But let’s skip the romance and go straight to the fantasy suite.”
What the hell am I doing? I wish I could understand my motives, but I tend to be a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy.
“I hope you know the fantasy suite is from The Bachelor, not Walt Disney. And nope, we can’t happen.”
Time to revise and revisit because I don’t take no for an answer. I take yeses breathlessly moaned into my ear as I pound into a woman. My favorite kind of affirmatives.
