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“Tell me something about you I don’t know.” I trail my fingers gently along Kane’s bare chest as I lay next to him in bed, tucked into the crook of his arm.
“Like what?” he asks, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair.
“Like anything. Just something I don’t know.”
“That’s pretty vague, babe.” He chuckles, the rumble under my cheek a welcome one. “I hate the color red. There, how’s that?”
“Okay not really what I had in mind, but wait,” I pause, just now processing what he said. “What do you mean youhatethe color red?”
“Just what I said, I hate the color red,” he repeats, voice thick with humor.
“Like it’s your least favorite color or the sight of it actually bothers you?”
“Both.” He slides his hand down my bare arm causing goose bumps to erupt across my skin.
“Hmm.” I think on this for a moment.
“You’re mentally running through your wardrobe right now, aren’t you?” His laugh deepens and for the tiniest moment my mind tricks me into believing it’s Kam lying next to me. Not because I want Kane to be Kam but because what he said was something Kam would have said.
“You know me too well already.” I push my previous thought away.
“Well, how deeply impacted is your closet by this news?” God I love when he talks and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“That I can think of, not at all. I mean, I’m sure I have something red somewhere but it’s not a great color on me.”
“I can’t imagine a color that doesn’t look good on you.”
“Perhaps I should slip into something red and put that to the test.” I prop my head up, resting my chin on the back of my hand atop his chest so I can look at him.
“Do you have anything red here?” He cocks a brow down at me.
“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t buy something,” I counter.
“You would.” He grins.
“Tell me something else.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Everything.” He chuckles. “How about we go with one thing at a time?”
“Fine.” I huff, pushing up into a sitting position before turning my body so that I’m facing him, twisting my legs Indian style in front of me.
I let my eyes soak in the sight of him; propped up on a stack of pillows, one arm draped behind his head, hair a mess, eyes sated, his incredible chest and stomach on full display. My god, he really is way too good looking for his own good.
“You were saying?” he prompts when my eyes still haven’t left his torso.
I blink, my gaze going to his face to see he’s wearing a cocky smirk. Yep, he definitely knows where my mind was right then.
“Favorite band?” I shoot off the first thing that comes to mind.
“Backstreet Boys.”
“Favorite mov… Wait? What did you just say?” My eyes widen in surprise.
“Backstreet Boys,” he says like he couldn’t be more serious.
