One More Time(37)

My lips curl up sardonically. What would Walter say? I don’t even know if I should bother telling him how close I came to screwing up the shoot-long booty call by having Feelings. He already saw it coming.

“Good email?” Tanner asks, seeing my expression, and I glance over at him. I don’t have to force my return smile, damn it. His huge grin, those friendly eyes… he’s just charming. And now that I’ve had the reminder that I needed that he isn’t a prince, I suppose there’s no reason to stay upset. He’s just obeying my rules, after all.

That sinking feeling can be dealt with later on. I’ll buy a new pair of Manolo Blanhnik’s and all will be good. Probably. Maybe.

Right now, the mess in my head can only be unraveled by losing my mind completely, preferably while impaled on his massive dick.

Apparently Tanner hasn’t learned the healing magic of designer shoes and hot sex because ten minutes later, he’s sitting on the couch insisting that talking is the way to make things better.

“I don’t believe that you’re not jealous.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But he ignores my dismissive attitude. “Tell me the truth, Jenna. This isn’t going to work if we lie to each other.”

“This is not going to work because we’re not in a relationship, remember? And I’m not jealous because there is nothing to be jealous over.”

“Fine. Prove it.” His voice is thick and his eyes dark.

And then I get it.

This is a game. He wants to think of me as jealous because it’s sexy.

Something about that challenge lights a fire inside. If he wants to get dirty, that’s just fine with me. I can inflate his ego and his dick at the same time.

I walk to the minibar, grab a couple bottles, and pour them into glass tumblers. Handing him one, I sit down next to him and toss my hair.

Exactly like Amber did.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks playfully.

“Showing you how very little I have to be jealous of.” I hadn’t smoothed down my dress before sitting, and it’s riding up my thighs.

Tanner doesn’t even try not to look, but I’m not ready for him to touch yet. I clink my glass to his in a parody of his toast with Amber that I watched from the bar earlier.

Then I toss my hair again. “So what were you two talking about, anyway?”

“Not much,” he gulps, and I wonder if there actually is something to be jealous of. After all, he fooled around on me once before.

Tanner’s hand snakes out to grab my leg, but I stop him with a wagging finger.

“We’re just having a nice conversation,” I say, impertinently. “Talking about nothing much. Alone together while everyone else is inside.”

“If you’re being Amber in this scenario, there’s nothing nice about her,” Tanner says.

A thrill goes through me. Either he really isn’t interested in her, or he likes a little bad in his girls these days.

I like to think I’m qualifying.

I spread my legs just a little, and he swallows again.

“Um, we talked about Kentucky a little.” His eyes are glued to the tiny triangle of fabric he can see between my legs.

“Oh, Kentucky, huh? I’ve had their fried chicken.” My voice is purposefully breathey, kitten-ish. “I like the breasts a lot.” I run my fingers lightly over mine, bringing my nipples to stiff peaks.

“And the thighs, of course.” My fingertips continue winding a sinuous course down my body, lightly brushing forward and back over the tops of my legs as I let my head fall back in appreciation of my own touch.

Tanner’s breath hitches.

“Do you think it’s true what they say?” I ask, drawing my hand up and under, sliding behind the elastic of my panties. “Is it finger-licking good?”

I draw my finger back out and hold it up, admiring the glistening of my own wetness. He tries to move his mouth over to find out, but I wag it again at him. I let him watch as I take a single, long lick, then run my tongue around my lips.

“Mmmm,” I say. “I think it is.”

While he’s still entranced by my lips, I dip my finger back down to gather more, and then use it to stir his drink.

“Your ice is melting.” I smile at his dropped jaw. A downward glance tells me that any thoughts of Amber that had been in his head are all gone now. That hard-on is all for me. As he sips his freshly stirred drink, eyes on me, I toss my hair again, to guarantee that the next time he sees another girl do it, I’ll be the one he’s picturing.

“Gosh,” I continue in feigned distress. “That was so forward of me. Maybe you’d better teach me a lesson… since I wasn’t very nice.”

I set my untouched drink on an end table and ease my way across him, my stomach pressed against his muscular thighs. He catches on quickly, with a low growl of excitement. His glass follows mine onto the table, and there’s still icy condensation on his big, rough palm as he slides it up my ass, pushing my dress out of way.

He hooks a finger through the waistband of my panties and pulls them down, making a pleased sound when the little peek of my pussy under my cheeks is revealed.

I wait for a long moment as he lets the tension build before smacking my ass. Even though I was expecting it—asked for it, even—I still jump a little in his lap. He gives it a little caress before a second crack follows, this one a little harder. I can feel the blood rushing to the site of the sting, and I imagine how it must look to him, flushed pink in the shape of his hand.