Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
He grins—wickedly, sexily. “There is no I, I’m afraid.”
“You’re not afraid,” I say, toeing off my shoe. “You’re happy about it.”
“I am,” he says with a laugh. “Though I’ll be happier when you’re out of those shoes and socks and the real clothes start coming off.”
“Not as happy as I’ll be when I’m sitting here fully dressed and you’re in nothing but your boxers.”
“Big talk for a little girl who’s already lost a shoe and gained a stick body,” he says, making a scratch on the paper, just below the noose already on the page.
I snort. “I expect more than a stick body, mister. I’ve seen your art skills now. I know better than to buy that ‘I can’t draw’ line anymore. And I’m about to make a comeback, wait and see.”
He smirks. “Lay it on me. What’s your next letter?”
“E,” I say, pumping a fist as he shifts the pad to fill in the three Es in the second word.
When he turns the pad back, I see _ _ _ _ _ _ _E E _ E and my wheels turn. Almost instantly, a possible answer pops into my head.
But surely not…
“Nacho cheese?” I ask, wrinkling my nose as he groans in defeat. “Are you serious?” I ask as he fills in the rest of the letters. “Nacho freaking cheese? You lick that off your lovers? What’s wrong with you?”
He laughs. “I’ve never licked it off of anyone, but you could lick it off someone. It’s drizzle-able.”
“First, that’s not a word. Second, nacho cheese would not only smell disgusting, but you also could burn someone.” I shake my head, shooting him my most judgmental look. “Are you sure you’re qualified to speak on this topic?”
“I didn’t want to make it too easy,” he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “If I’d put whipped cream on there, you would have had the answer in two seconds.”
I can’t resist smirking a little. “I had the answer in two seconds anyway.”
“Okay, Sassypants,” he says, thrusting the pad my way. “Your turn. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“The nickname is Feistypants.” I flip the paper over to reveal a fresh sheet. “And from now on, all lickable items must be things you’d actually enjoy licking off your lover. No funny business.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he says, “Fine. Hit me with your best shot, woman.”
I do. And ten minutes later, Ian is down to his jeans. His sweatshirt, undershirt, and both socks are already on the floor and not a single correct letter has been guessed on my hangman board.
“Oh dear,” I say, tsking beneath my breath. “Looks like I’m about to find out whether you wear boxers or briefs.”
“Assuming I wear underwear,” he says, glancing back at the paper. “But you’re going to have to wait to find out. I’m about to make a comeback. Y.”
I shoot him a faux pitying expression and coo, “So sorry, but there is no Y. Time to take off those jeans, mister.”
“There has to be a Y,” he says. “If you chose a word in a foreign language, you forfeit your win. You know the rules. Words have to be in English and recognized by Merriam-Webster.”
I hum low in my throat. “Wow, you didn’t use to be such a sore loser. Does this mean I should assume you aren’t wearing boxers and are afraid to pull a Full Monty so early in the competition?”
“I fear nothing,” he says, making me snort-laugh. He jumps to his feet, striking a superhero pose before reaching for the top button on his jeans, making me giggle as he opens the flap of his zipper just far enough to reveal the top of a pair of dark red underwear of some sort.
But then he pauses, his eyes locking with mine as he says in a softer voice, “You really want me to take these off?”
I nod, my smile fading. “Yes. I do.”
“Tell me the word first.”
I shake my head, gaze still locked on his. “No. I’m in it to win it. And I don’t win until you’re wearing nothing but your birthday suit.”
“I forfeit,” he says, adding in a husky voice that is maybe the most butterfly-inducing thing I’ve ever heard, “And I think we’re both going to win tonight.”
“Yeah?” My cheeks warm and the rest of me begins to tingle in that increasingly familiar way only Ian seems to inspire.
“Yeah. I just…have a feeling.”
“I have that same feeling,” I say, “but I’m going to need you to take off those jeans before I reveal my hangman secrets.”
His lips hook up on one side. “As the lady wishes.”
“Thank you,” I say, my tongue slipping out to dampen my lips. He really is mouthwatering, looking so damned good in jeans and nothing else that it’s hard to imagine him getting any hotter.