Page 172 of How to Win the Girl

“Daisy?”

“Hmm?” I look down into his face.

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

I nod.

“Uh. Just so we’re clear, are we about to have sex or are we just fooling around with no clothes on ’cause I don’t want there to be any confusion.”

His expression causes a nervous laugh to escape my throat. “Sex?” Why am I saying it like it’s a question? “But only if you want?”

“Only if I want? Woman, are you out your mind? Of course I want to have sex. I’m just makin’ sure you’re the one who wants to have sex with me. I’m on that ban, remember?”

I roll my eyes. “Who could forget when you keep reminding me.”

“Just so we’re clear.” He laughs, chest rumbling beneath my thighs as his hands climb my rib cage, giving me goose bumps. “I’d like to have sex with you, but only if you want to have sex with me.”

Sex, sex, sex.

“Just so we’re clear, it’s been a long time. I might not be good at it.”

Drake’s chuckle is deep. “Babe, you need to stop worrying.” His hands are all the way on my rib cage now, thumbs brushing my underboob, palms moving to cup my breasts. “We can hang out like this if you change your mind, just two naked people touching privates but not banging.”

“Oh my god. Stop.”

“No pressure.” He laughs.

No, there is no pressure.

My chin notches. “Trust me, if I felt pressure, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my tatas hanging out.”

“They’re not hangin’ out.” Drake grins. “Even mostly naked, you have somethin’ to say.”

A few seconds go by where all he does it look up at me, hands on my chest.

Then.

In an instant, he flips me so my back is on the mattress, his massive, strong arms flanking me on either side.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with him; to tell him I’m not gorgeous and he’s being ridiculous because that’s what I always do when I feel out of my element and uncomfortable.

“Thank you.”

Drake bursts out laughing. “Wow. Was that so hard?”

“Was what so hard?”

“Sayin’ thank you after a compliment.” He leans down and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose—then the tip of my breast. “You should have seen the look on your face when I said that.”

“What was the look on my face?”

“For a second, you were goin’ to argue with me.”

He’s right. I was. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Liar.”

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