How to Fail at Flirting(10)

His grin widened. “That good, huh? To your question, it depends. Do you like nerds?”

We sat at a bistro table in the corner. “I definitely like nerds,” I said, pushing imaginary glasses up on my nose. “But more importantly, do you like your ice cream?”

Jake eyed his bowl skeptically, then shot his gaze to me.

“You picked blue! I had to follow your rules.”

Taking a tiny portion on his spoon, his whole face collapsed as he tasted it. “First hemorrhoids and now this. You don’t like me very much, do you?” He pushed it toward me. “Do you want to try?”

I took another bite of my new favorite flavor. “No way, but you can share mine. Be warned, though: It’s like a sweet little orgasm for your mouth, only cold.” I froze, my cheeks heating. I clapped my hand over my mouth. I just referenced orgasms . . . in his mouth . . . in public.

Forget the anthology. I’m hopeless.

He blinked, his jaw slack for a moment. “Never had a cold one,” he said slowly before taking a small bite from my bowl. “But, wow, you’re right, that is good.” He shifted his eyes left to right. “Did you cheat my system? Are you some kind of ice cream hustler?”

I offered my bowl to him again, urging him to take another bite. “No, just luck of the draw. But this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His gaze skimmed over my face, pausing momentarily on my lips.

I wonder how he tastes.

I stifled the urge to hide my mouth behind a napkin. “Do you want the last bite?”

“No, thanks.”

“You sure? I feel bad ordering that flavor for you.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’d much rather watch you enjoy it.”

“Oh?” I slipped the spoon to my mouth, tracing my tongue along the underside to stop its contents from dripping down my chin, then taking it between my lips.

He followed my movements intently, and a pulse thrummed low in my body when his tongue peeked out over his lower lip. “Definitely.” His gaze returned to my eyes.

I fumbled with my spoon, unsteady at his attention. All that sexual charisma I channeled with the spoon in my mouth disappeared. “Do you want to do something else to me?”

His eyes widened, and I stammered a correction.

“I mean, with me! Rather, go somewhere else?” Good save.

“Sure. Unless ice cream was on your list, you’ve still got work to do, right?” He gathered our bowls, and I admired the lines of his arms. “Where do you want to go?”

The angel and the devil on my shoulder bickered.

Somewhere public! Get to know him and stay safe.

Somewhere private! Take off his pants!

“We could find a club or something?” I hoped my voice sounded surer than I felt. The thumping bass and wall-to-wall people were not my scene at all, but I didn’t want to sound prudish.

“If you want.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not much of a club guy, though.”

“Thank God.” I smiled, relief filling me.





Four





The city below sparkled from the ninety-fourth floor of the 360-degree observation deck of the Hancock Building, and Lake Michigan provided a dark contrast to the city lights. I looked around at the thinning crowds—it was nearing closing time, and we were almost to the front of the line. We’d seen a sign advertising TILT on the way in.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I said.

“Believe me, I didn’t talk you into anything.” Jake’s hand brushed mine. “You suggested this after the last round of drinks.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” Am I slurring my words?

We stepped forward in line. “You said you needed to try something new and marched right over to buy tickets. I tried to pay, and you wouldn’t let me. You were a little bossy about it,” he said, playfully.

Standing in a glass cubicle as it tilted forward over the Magnificent Mile fit the bill for taking a risk. Doing it next to my handsome stranger made the risk that much more appealing.

“Insisting on paying sounds like me.” I giggled, then paused, remembering the flirting articles. “Is that a turnoff, when a woman wants to pay?”

His hand fell to my lower back. “I don’t think anything about you is a turnoff. I’m going with you, aren’t I?”

My back straightened at his touch, the tingle extending lower. “And I didn’t even have to twist your arm.”

“No, I came willingly.” Jake dipped his face close to me, and his mouth was near my ear.

He smelled like the scotch he’d ordered after we arrived. The strong scent was not something I normally enjoyed, but it made me feel warm and tingly.

My cheeks flamed, and a swirl of excitement twisted low in my body. He’d found small ways to touch me since we’d left the ice cream shop. Brushing his arm against mine as we wandered the observatory, or his fingers lingering near mine when he handed me a drink. The pressure of Jake’s hand on my back was intoxicating in a different way. His wide palm swept up my spine, and I imagined it traversing my hips.

“And bossy doesn’t bother you, huh?”

“I have four sisters. I spent a lot of years being told what to do.”