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‘I think you could make anything sexy,’ I admit, the words a little hoarse.
She laughs; I’m not expecting it. ‘That was nothing to do with me and everything to do with you.’ She reaches for her jeans. Her fingertips quiver a little as she moves to button them together. I catch just a glimpse of red silk underwear before she dresses.
Great.
&n
bsp; Red silk lace.
I thought I was hard before.
‘So is this a standard pool teaching technique?’ she asks as she moves around the table, grabbing for her cue and eyeing the table.
I laugh. ‘Not approved, I think, but effective.’
She smiles. ‘Definitely effective.’
Her cheeks are still flushed. I love that. Proof of her desire is an aphrodisiac of which I want more.
She leans over the table and now I catch more than a glimpse of her cleavage. I can’t look away, especially not when I see a tiny curl of red lace in her bra. I’m assaulted by recollections of her stripping down to her bra the other night and suddenly I need to see her again.
‘What do you say,’ I murmur, reaching for my own beer and sucking it back before cradling it in my hand, ‘we make this more interesting?’
‘More interesting than that?’ she returns deadpan. ‘I’d say you can try but I’m not sure you’ll succeed.’
My ego soars.
‘What’ve you got in mind, Mr Brophy?’
‘How about for every ball you sink, I take off an item of my clothing.’ I move around the table, closer to her. ‘And for every ball I sink...’
Her laugh is breathy. ‘I think I can see where this is going.’
I grin.
‘Seriously? Strip pool?’
I lift a brow, silently challenging her.
‘By my count, I’ve already sunk two balls,’ she says with an impish smile. ‘Allow me.’ She reaches for my shirt and, with a slowness that may well be the end of me, begins to unbutton it. I watch as she moves downward, piece by piece, until thank fuck she finally gets there. Her fingers push at the shirt almost clinically, as though removing it is the sole object of the game. There is no lingering touch, no exploration.
But then, with the shirt discarded, she stares at me, her eyes devouring my naked chest in a way that strokes my ego even more.
‘I think you’ve got a bit of drool there,’ I joke, reaching out and touching the side of her mouth.
She blushes to the roots of her hair and then I feel kind of like an ass, but seriously—a girl who blushes like this?
It’s addictive.
‘Yeah, okay,’ she mumbles, stepping back. ‘You’re hot. You must know that. Is it a crime to stare?’
‘Definitely not,’ I promise. ‘That was only one item.’
Her eyes lift to mine at the unspoken invitation, and then she’s moving forward. Her fingers find the front of my pants but I reach down, stilling her. ‘The belt.’
‘The belt?’ She wrinkles her nose and without warning I lean down and kiss its tip.
‘Yeah. There’s no rush, right?’
