“Do you like that?” he asks, stretching out beside me, still fully clothed.
“Not in the least,” I say.
“There are punishments for lying.”
“Really?” I drag my teeth over my lower lip. “That’s very interesting information.” I’ve never been spanked—that was not the kind of activity that fit with my previous approach to sex—but in this moment, with this man, I’m all about exploring the possibilities.
He laughs, then kisses me. “Someone’s feeling naughty.”
“Must be the sea air.”
“Must be.” He traces his fingertip over my breast, his touch gentle, though my reaction is wild. “I still don’t know the stories behind all of these.”
“Why don’t you guess?”
He sits up and pours us each a glass of wine. “What do I get if I’m right?”
“A kiss.”
“How can I turn down that challenge?” He makes a spinning motion with his finger. “Over.”
I comply, and as soon as I’m on my stomach his fingers start dancing over my skin, teasing me, tracing my tats. Then he finger-walks up my spine to land at the small symbol right between my shoulder blades. “This one.”
“That’s a hard one,” I say.
“It’s easy enough to see what it is. The arrows for rewind, fast forward, and play. The square for stop and the split square for pause. It’s a control panel for a digital recorder.”
“Clever boy. But the hard question is what does it mean?”
“I have no idea,” he admits. “But I’m curious enough to sacrifice that kiss.”
“I cut my hair,” I say. “It used to hit right there. And when—” I take a deep breath and start over. “Bob liked my hair. Used to make a big deal out of it. And so when it was all over, I cut it. And that’s what Cass put there.”
“Control,” he says in a musing tone. “You control it. How long. How short. What color.”
I roll over, then prop myself up on my elbow and give him a kiss, long and deep, and when I pull away I let my teeth drag over his lower lip. “You’re very good at this game.”
“I think I’d like to play again,” he says, and I take satisfaction from the need that fills his voice.
I start to roll back to my stomach, but he stops me. “No. This one,” he says, pointing at the female symbol twined with a rose on my breast.
I have to force myself not to squirm, because that is the one for Cass, and I’m not sure I want to tell him about that. But I’m the one who started this game, and I don’t think there’s a graceful way out. And the truth is that I have kept enough secrets from him. I don’t need to hold on to this one.
“All right,” I say. “But you won’t guess. A shame, since I was looking forward to administering your prize.”
“You have very little faith.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite certain.”
“Give me a moment.” He moves to straddle me. He is still fully clothed, and his jeans brush against my bare skin in a way that shouldn’t be provocative, but really is. He puts his hands on my waist, then strokes up until he reaches my breasts. He cups the right one, teasing it and playing with my nipple even as his other hand dances lightly over the tattoo.
“You’re just stalling.” I’m a little breathless. Not only from the magic he’s working on my breast, but because he’s sitting right over my sex, and though I am not supporting all of his weight, I can feel his heat and the brush of denim against my sex. And, frankly, it’s making me crazy.
“Maybe a little,” he says. “I thought you might enjoy the delay.”
He’s got that right.
I force myself to ignore the way my body is craving more than this slight touch and begin humming the theme from Jeopardy!
He laughs. “Fair enough.” He meets my eyes. “This is the one for when you slept with Cass.”
I am certain my face registers complete shock. “How did you get that simply from a tattoo?”
“Not just a tattoo. That tattoo. And I got it because I know you. And once you told me she was gay it just made sense.”
I’m still a little flabbergasted. I’m also a little relieved. If my best friend were a guy, the question would naturally come up. Have you two slept together, and then we’d deal with it. But despite political correctness, no boyfriend ever asks a girl if she’s slept with her best female friend. And despite being weirdly embarrassed about something I’m not the least bit ashamed of, I’m glad it’s out. I don’t want to be at the center of secrets between the people who are closest to me.
