“No.” I toyed with my chain.
“Liar. Let’s start with your shirt.” He grasped the bottom.
I lifted my arms without arguing. I really had to learn to control my nervous habits. He studied me as my sheer lace tee floated to the floor.
“My turn.” I wanted to start with an easy one, but as he smirked like an ass, I couldn’t concentrate. “What color underwear do you have on?” A lame question, but with the different colors he wore, maybe he wouldn’t remember what he’d put on that morning. I puffed out my breasts, trying to divert him from looking down at the rip below the pocket of his jeans.
A mischievous grin emerged. “Black.”
“Why do I get the feeling you know the correct color and you’re lying?”
“Maybe I want to get naked.”
I gulped down air, remembering the outline of his penis as he’d posed in his green boxer briefs.
He raised his arms. “Go ahead, take off my shirt.”
I reached over and helped him out of his T-shirt. My jaw hit the floor before the shirt. No matter how many times I’d seen Kelton in art class with barely anything on, I was still in awe as I studied his tattoo. I couldn’t help but run my fingers over the colorful lizard—something I’d wanted to do since I’d first seen it. He groaned as my fingers roamed over his shifting abs, making their way down to the waist of his jeans where the head of the lizard disappeared. When I reached his belt buckle, he sucked in his stomach. I giggled nervously.
A primitive wildness glinted in his eyes, making my heart jump and my stomach flip. “Keep going,” he said.
I licked my lips. I could, but then we’d both be naked. That wasn’t a bad thing, but I was interested in what other questions he had in store. I straightened.
He pouted briefly before he asked, “Are you wearing your toe socks?”
“Yes.”
He lifted my leg to rest on his knee. “I have to confirm.”
I thought for a second about arguing, but then he wouldn’t know if I was telling the truth, and I was enjoying his hands on me. I quickly gripped the island to prevent myself from falling backward.
He untied my boot before pulling it off slowly. He said nothing about my striped toe socks. Instead, he captured my foot between his large hands and kissed the tops of my toes. “You have the cutest feet, especially in these striped toe socks.”
I snorted. “You’re weird.” Good thing my socks were fresh and clean.
Lowering my leg, I adjusted myself on the barstool. My mouth watered as I anticipated the tanginess of the lemon meringue.
He dug the fork into the pie then brought the piece up to my mouth. As soon as the lemon hit my tongue, an explosion of sugar and tart made me pucker. “You’ve outdone yourself.” I closed my eyes briefly, thinking back to a hot summer day when we’d been twelve. Kelton and I had sat on the edge of my pool with our legs dangling in the water, eating a lemon pie my mom had baked.
“You’re remembering that day by the pool. Aren’t you?” he asked.
My eyes flew open, as did my mouth.
“I think about that day a lot,” he said. “That was the day of our first kiss. And not the one where I kissed you on the cheek in the sixth grade and you punched me.”
“Care to replay our first kiss?” My breathing prowled up the charts.
“Nope.”
My heart severed in two.
He dragged his barstool closer to me. “Describe our first kiss.”
I sucked in a breath, trying to loosen the marbles rattling around in my system. “Wait a minute. Is it your turn?”
Spellbound, he watched me. “Yes. Now answer, baby doll. Or else another piece of clothing comes off.”
I played with my earring. “It was awful.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.” In part I was.
“Lizzie, you give yourself away every time.” He snatched my hand away from my ear.
Darn habit. “You licked pie off my face,” I protested. We’d been playing footsy in the pool, swinging our legs out and up while eating pie. My leg had swung up too high, the momentum causing me to fall backward. My plate had landed on my face.
“After that. But before you continue”—he grabbed the bottom of my tank top—“time to remove this,” he said in a wicked tone.
I almost argued, but I was eager to see his reaction when I was left with only a black lace bra.
He groaned as he undressed me. Once my tank top was in his hands, he flung it aside. Then he traced a path along my cleavage, over one side then the other.
My pulse kicked up. “My turn.” I tapped his hand.
He licked his lips, plastering a shit-eating grin on his face. “Not yet. The truth.”
Make him sweat. I stuck out my chest, pressed on his thighs, strong and hard, and closed the distance between us. “It was awkward.” No lie. “Your hair tickled my nose. When I started to giggle, you pressed your lips to mine. The kiss was hard at first, then softened as we explored each other.” My fingers danced farther up his legs, stopping short of his pockets.