He motions to the bartender. “Another couple shots, please. Gran Patron. Limes. Thanks.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I’ll show you how truth and honesty works. Let ’er rip.”
“Okay.” He sits back, assessing me with smoldering eyes. “Admit you’re soaking your panties for me right now.”
I shift in my seat. “No.”
“No, you won’t admit it—or no, you’re not soaking your panties for me?”
“No, I’mnotsoaking my panties for you.”
“Bullshit. It’s written all over your face. You’re soaking them clean through.” He rolls his eyes. “I thought you were gonna model truth and honesty for me. Ha! You’re so full of shit.” He swigs the last of his drink.
I lean forward and grin. “I’m not full of shit. I’m telling the God’s truth. I’m not soaking my panties for you—because I’m not wearing any panties.”
Thirteen
Josh
Oh fuck. She’s the devil.
My dick is doing fucking jumping jacks in my pants.
I can’t breathe.
What the fuck is wrong with this woman? Is she insane? Her dress is barely longer than a fucking T-shirt. Is she trying to give the entire world an unimpeded peek at her pussy? All of a sudden, I can’t remove my eyes from her crotch or stop imagining what’s hiding just beyond the sequined hem of her itty-bitty dress.
She re-crosses her toned, bare thighs and flips her blonde hair, and I tear my eyes away from her lap.
“Do you always go commando?” I ask. But then I roll my eyes at myself.That’smy lame response? Who the fuck am I right now—Jonas?
“No,” she says, laughing. “I typically wear underpants. A teeny-tiny G-string, to be exact.” She blows me a kiss and winks.
Oh, she’s a fucking sadist.
“That’s what I was wearing tonight, actually—a teeny, tiny, black lace G-string—mmmm—but I took it off in the bathroom right before we sat down at the bar.” She opens her beaded clutch purse and pulls out a tiny black swatch of lace. “Looks like you’re not the only one who likes a littleexcitement,Playboy.” She winks again.
Holy fuck. My pulse is suddenly pounding in my ears. I lean forward, right into her gorgeous face.
“Goddammit, Kat. That’s it.” I pull out my credit card and throw it onto the bar. “This bullshit competition is over. Get up. I’m taking you upstairs right now.”
She laughs and doesn’t move a muscle. “Great. Can’t wait to read your application before we get started.”
“Kat.No.”
“I’ve told you my terms, Playboy—and I’m prepared to doanythingI have to do to get what I want.” She whirls her undies around on her finger. “Anything at all.”
I exhale, exasperated. “Dude, you’re a freaking suicide bomber, you know that? You want me as much as I want you—but you’re willing to blow yourself to smithereens in order towin.”
She re-crosses her legs, yet again. “Gosh, is it breezy in here? Wow. It feels kinda breezy in here.” She mock-shivers and lets out a sexy growl. “God, I wish I had an application to a sex club to keep me warm right now. Brr.”
“You’re evil,” I say, my voice low and intense. “Pure fucking evil. You’re a fuckingjihadist.”
She smiles broadly. “Oh, I like that word. Iam.” She laughs. “Oh, God. I really am.”
My cock is throbbing. “Half the fun of being with someone new is not knowing what you’re getting yourself into in advance. Maybe you wake up chained to a donkey; maybe you don’t. It’s like opening a present on Christmas. You don’t get to ask, ‘What’s in the box?’ before you rip into it—you just rip into it, baby.”
She shrugs and re-crosses her legs, yet again. “Interesting theory. Let’s agree to disagree.”
