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“Where are you going with this?”
I tilt my head to the side. “I challenge you not to give me an orgasm for twenty-four hours.”
He raises his eyebrows and turns back to what he’s doing. “That won’t make sex very fun for you, then.”
“Uh, that’s not what I mean.” I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. “I challenge you not to have any kind of foreplay or sex with me for twenty-four hours.”
He stops dead, dropping the jeans he was holding. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re going to have to repeat that. I’m pretty sure I just heard you challenge me not to have sex with you for twenty-four hours, but that can’t be right.”
My lips twitch. “You heard me right.”
He straightens and grabs the rest of his things from the bathroom. He puts them in the zip pocket on the lid of his suitcase then closes it. The buzzing noise of him zipping it up fills the almost tense silence in the room.
“Twenty-four hours?” he repeats. “No sex? No orgasm? No foreplay?”
“Twenty-four hours with no sex,” I confirm. “Think you can do it?”
“Baby, I know I can do it. As long as you’re prepared to be flipped onto your knees and fucked into next week at the end of it.”
I lick my lips. “I’m sure I can handle it.” I lean back on my hands. “You’re forgetting something really important, though.”
“What’s that?”
“In three hours’ time, we’ll be on a plane, in rather tight quarters, with a bed accessible and not a lot to do.”
His eyes darken. With heat or anger, I don’t know. Maybe it’s restrained temptation. But it’s the kind of darkness that’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
“Then you better find yourself something to do for sixteen hours that won’t make you wet or me hard.”
“Day packed me some porn on a page, so I’ll manage.” I grin sassily. “How about you?”
He puts his hands in his pockets. “Well, I was planning on uploading the images from yesterday and editing. Of course, I was also planning to induct us into the mile high club right after. Since I no longer have that option, I’ll probably just wander around with my cock raging hard and see if you can be around me and still keep to your challenge.”
“Hey, I challenged you to not give me an orgasm. I didn’t challenge it the other way around.”
He smirks and walks to me, pulling his hands from his pockets. He rests them over mine on the bed, his fingers falling between mine, and leans forward. “Liv, the challenge goes for both of us. I can only think of one reason why you’d challenge me to this, whether or not you’ll admit it.”
I meet his gaze steadily despite the thump of my heart. “And what reason would that be, smartass?”
“It would be the one where you’re still trying to convince yourself to give me a chance, and you want to see if we can be together in a way that isn’t physical.”
“Wrong.” I swallow my lie.
“You’re a lying bitch,” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing my lobe. “You’re racking up quite the adjectives to go with that nickname.”
“Bitch is my official nickname? Oh, wow. I feel so cherished.” I roll my eyes.
“No, ‘bitch’ isn’t your nickname.” He grins then darts forward, kissing me, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re my bitch, which makes your official nickname ‘Tyler’s Bitch.’”
“Does that make a huge difference?” I murmur as he runs his tongue along where his teeth just were.
“Yes. It makes the world of difference.”
“What, stick your name on an oddly affectionate but possibly insulting nickname and it makes it better?”
“It doesn’t have to make it better”—he runs his thumb along the curve of my jaw—“because it makes you mine. And it makes sure everyone else knows it, too.”
“But I’m not yours. Not really.”
