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He wrote some more. “No… one… else.”
That was reassuring. Even if it was only for a few days, it was exclusive. I wasn’t one of many.
“Good. How about length of contract?” I suggested. That was tame. Didn’t involve butt stuff or taking two guys at once.
He nodded. I just noticed his hair was slightly damp, as if he’d recently showered and it slid over his forehead. “Right. I leave Saturday.”
“So this will last until then.”
He kept his head down and continued to write. “Termination… plane leaving. Got it.” There were no sentences or fancy language in this contract, only bullet points.
“Okay.” There was that lip quirk again as he looked up. “On the phone, you said you were afraid of the unknown and that you didn’t know the rules. The rules are whatever we make them. Just you and me. No one else. Like… I don’t like to be tickled.”
My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but smile. This was a surprise. “You’re ticklish?”
He set a hand on his chest and had a look of mock shock. “What, a big guy like me can’t be?”
This I had to see. Daniel was actually ticklish? I approached. At first, his eyes hooded, then heated. Then he saw me raise my hands, fingers wiggling and caught on.
“Mellllllly,” he warned, and took a step back.
I had no idea why I was bold. I had a feeling it was Daniel himself. He–Mr. Lumberjack–was on the retreat.
He had his hands up as if to ward me off. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You really are ticklish?” I asked.
He stopped, then tipped his chin down to look at me closely. “Maybe you are.”
“Me?”
He took a step toward me, turning the tables. Uh oh.
I didn’t like to be tickled either. What happened if I peed my pants? God, what if I farted?
Now it was my turn to retreat.
I couldn’t miss the gleam in his eye. “You. If I catch you–”
And I was off, spinning on my heel and dashing around the center island with a laugh.
“Run, sweet girl, but when I catch you…”
He didn’t finish and I didn’t wait for him to do so and circled around the dining room table. I aimed to go around the leather couches in front of the fireplace. An expert with the layout of his furniture, he cut me off, caught me from behind. A thick arm banded about my waist and lifted me off my feet. One second I was airborne, the next I was on my back on a plush couch. Daniel had one knee on the cushion, the other foot on the floor and he hovered over me. His dark hair fell over his forehead. Little crinkles formed by his eyes.
We were breathing hard, and we were both smiling. I adjusted my glasses.
Earl gave a deep woof from the dog bed where he was curled up, Fred at his side, but neither moved.
“Please don’t tickle me,” I said, knowing he could do it now and there was no way to escape. I wasn’t scared. Okay, maybe of farting. Perhaps my words were a subtle test to see if he respected my wishes.
“No tickling,” he agreed. “It’s now one of the rules.”
His gaze dropped down my body and I realized my top had drifted up. His finger brushed over the bare sliver of exposed skin.
Just the softest of caresses had me sucking in a breath. Heat shot through me, and I waited for what he’d do next. If I’d like it. But what if I did it wrong?
“Touching, however–”
