Page 27 of Shake You

I definitely wasn’t anticipating seeing Honey flaming red with anger, nor her flying fist, as it careened toward my face. Lucky for both of us, my sharp reflexes meant that I caught her by the wrist before she was in any danger of connecting the blow—not that it would have hurt, or even landed anywhere of any significance.

“Back for a second round already? I’m glad I hit the spot. Over, and over...” I bit my lip in an attempt to stifle the laughter bubbling in my throat. As usual, I was having way too much fun riling her.

“You fucking piece of shit.”

“As far as post-coital terms of endearment go, I’d give that a one out of ten. It needs a lot of work. What have I done to deserve such a negative Yelp rating? You seemed like a pretty satisfied customer at the point of ‘purchase.’ What’s changed?”

She was now a deep shade of red, much like a fine wine. This really was like stealing candy from a baby.

“You know full well why I’m here.”

“I don’t, actually. I still can’t work out if you want a repeat performance or a refund.”

“Neither. Are you going to stand there and pretend you know nothing about this, or its appearance under my pillow, when you just so happened to have taken me out all day on a ridiculous hike?”

“Nope.” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“So you’re admitting you had something to do with this?”

“I’m not admitting shit, but I’m not about to stand here and discuss anything with anyone. I’ll be enjoying the comfort of my couch, and then my bed for the rest of the night, so I’m closing the door now. It’s up to you what side of it you’re on when I do, but if I was cruising around campus in my Tweetie Pie jammies, I’d probably choose to come inside.” I looked pointedly at her cami and boxer set emblazoned with a picture of the famous birdie, and the caption “Sweep tight.”

I loved being able to put that look of confusion on her face, partially because I enjoyed the feeling of power it gave me, and partly because it was hotter than peri peri sauce. I really wished I had a camera to capture her face as her expression moved from murderous to shock, and back again.

She crossed her arms pointedly, but not before I noted that she was braless. And by I, I meant my dick. Sweeping my gaze slowly further down her body, I also took note of the fact that she was wearing nothing else but a pair of shower slides. Hot. Except it actually was. Everything about her was.

“Why don’t you take a photo? It lasts longer.” Sarcasm suited her, and would no doubt come in handy if she chose to pursue journalism as her full-time career. “Jesus, you’re an animal.”

“Yeah. Some would say a bear. A bear you fucked in the woods.” Despite our agreement, I boomed the words at full voice, smirking to myself as the sound ricocheted off the cold corridor walls. “Besides, you’re the journalist—isn’t taking photos more your thing?” I was sure she’d get the not-so-subtle reference in my words.

“Shut up.” She hissed in the smallest, tightest voice she could throw out and still have me hear her. The venom in the words matched her tone, and as she stepped over the threshold into my room, my smirk widened into a full smile. Yes!

“You can take that look off your face right now. I’m only coming inside because it’s preferable to standing out here dressed like this, while you bellow lies about me for all the world to hear.”

I backed into the room, motioning for her to go ahead of me, but not before she shot me a look that suggested I was leading her into Satan’s boudoir. I waited until the door closed to continue the conversation.

“What lies? Didn’t we just fuck in the woods?”

“Well, that part is true, obviously, but the part where you make it sound like I’m anything other than horrified by that fact isn’t. Right now, the prospect of spending time in close quarters with you is about as appealing as a dose of the clap.”

“Sounds like fun. Take a seat.”

“No, thank you. This isn’t a social call.” She clamped her arms even tighter across her chest.

“That’s as may be, but what kind of business needs to be conducted standing up? Now who’s the animal?” Touché.

She edged toward one of the easy chairs, instead of the couch I’d pointed to, and lowered herself onto it as though she thought it might actually give her the STI she’d referred to.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You know what. This.” She brandished the black feather again.

I threw myself casually into the couch she’d rejected, and took way longer than was polite to answer her.

“What I know, and what you think I know are evidently two different things. Now I’m no ornithologist, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that’s a feather. Beyond that, I’ve got nothing.”

“So you are denying it, then.”

“‘It’ what? What are you even talking about?”

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