Feeling cornered, I reached for the zipper on the hip of Hartley’s breakaway pants. I reeled it downward, as far as I could reach.
He broke our kiss to look down, watching me. “What’s that for, Callahan?”
“Why am I the only one naked?”
“Well…” he hesitated. “I wasn’t going there, you know, to demonstrate my honorable intentions.”
“Hartley,” I looked into his eyes. “Who could mistake you for someone with honorable intentions?”
An unreadable emotion flashed across his handsome face. But he quickly replaced it with a smile. “Good point, Callahan. And I’m not a guy who needs much convincing to get naked.” He unzipped the pants on the broken leg side, and then he sat up and shucked them off, along with his boxers.
And that left me trying not to stare at his erection. He was thick and beautiful, and I’d had at least a little something to do with that.
I dragged my eyes to his face. “Lose the T-shirt.”
He smiled, wrestling it off. “Callahan never does anything halfway.”
And…holy cow.
The room was lit only by the night-light my parents had so stubbornly installed. But its dim rays managed to accentuate the shadows of his muscular pecs, and the flex of his bicep where he propped himself up. His sculpted chest tapered to a trim waist and hips. I’d meant to even the score a little, to spread the self-consciousness around. But it utterly backfired. I now had the most gorgeous naked guy spread out in front of me in my bed, looking as comfortable as he always was. “Is that better?” His dimple quirked at me.
I couldn’t even answer.
He was amazing, and I wanted to dive into him and never come up for air. There was no way I could feel any more vulnerable than I did that second. Because I wanted him — I wanted this — more than anything else in the world, and I couldn’t even let him know. To Hartley, this was an experiment, or just another evening’s diversion with his neighbor Callahan. This time without clothing. But to me it was everything, and terrifying, too. I hoped he couldn’t read it on my face. My heart thumped spastically.
Whoa! Maybe you are a chicken. My hope fairy reappeared, wearing black lace lingerie, and a pout on her face. Don’t panic now, she insisted. This was just getting good.
The old Corey had always been a risk-taker, a team captain, a fearless girl. I never panicked, even with one minute on the clock and a tied game. I needed that Corey back, and right away.
Before I could think better of my impulse, I pushed up on two hands and bent over Hartley’s waist. And then I did something he wasn’t expecting, and something I’d never done to a guy before.
I licked him.
It was a single, playful sweep of my tongue. But it had exactly the intended effect. His stomach muscles contracted, and his hands gripped the bed in surprise. I heard him suck in his breath.
I swung back up and pinned him with my gaze. “That’s for calling me a chicken.”
His startled eyes looked into mine as he exhaled gustily. “Jesus, Callahan. Punish me more.”
I gave him a catty little shake of my head. For a second longer, we just stared at each other. Then he grabbed for me with both arms, hauling me onto his chest, his tongue slicking my lower lip. The next few minutes were lost to me, as I drank in his kisses and sank into all of his beautiful skin. It was delicious, even though I knew I was a goner. I would never get this night out of my head. The kissing we’d done on the sofa had already ruined me. I didn’t even care.
“Where is it, Callahan?”
Hartley was asking me a question, but I was too drunk with lust to focus. “What?”
“Where is it? Where did you stash Digby?”
When enough oxygen reached my brain that I could understand the question, I shook my head. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Hartley said. He leaned over me and opened the drawer of my bedside table. “Is it in here?”
“Hartley!” I grabbed his arm. But it was too late. He already held the little box in his hand. “Put that back,” I said. “That’s just too weird.”
He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. These are fun.” He’d dropped the box and pulled off the top. Now he picked it up and showed it to me. “I guess you’ve never tried one before?”
I shook my head. “Why would I?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Women love these. But…” his smile faded, and he looked into my eyes. “You especially should give it a shot. I read this article…”
My mouth fell open. “You Googled my problem?”
He looked a little sheepish. “I always study to get an A, Callahan. There was this paper about paraplegic women…”
I closed my eyes. “I read that too.” A pair of doctors had discovered that paralyzed women often had more sensation inside than outside. And guess what the test subjects had used to discover it?
“So you should be willing to try it. And why not on the Weirdest Night Ever?”
“Oh my God,” I breathed as the device began to whir quietly in his hand.
“Maybe we can make you yell that,” he said, his eyebrows wiggling.