Page 122 of How to Win the Girl

“Daisy? Are you listenin’?”

I realize I’ve been fantasizing and not paying attention, the blush rising up my chest to my cheeks has my face on fire.

“Huh?”

“What were you just thinkin’ about?”

“Huh?” I say again. “Nothing.”

His gorgeous mouth slowly curves into a knowing smile. “You little liar.”

How many times is he going to utter those words? He’s said them to me already in passing, this little cat and mouse game that has to go on longer.

“You’re right. I’m lying.”

Drakes eyes get wide. “You’re just going to straight up admit to lying?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing the past few hours? Confessing all our sins?”

“Our sins? Confessing? All you’ve done is confessed that you lied.”

True.

I nibble on my bottom lip, debating. “Alright. I was thinking about touching myself later because watching you right now makes me want to give myself an orgasm.”

Drake blinks.

He almost comes off his bed, grappling for clothes, practically tripping over himself and his bed. “I can be over in less than ten minutes.”

I laugh. “You arenotcoming over.”

“Why not?” he whines, bottom lip jutting out as he holds a tee shirt over his body, poised to slip it on over his head. “I’m hard again.”

Hard?

“Are you talking about your dick?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Yes, my dick.”

“How,though? All I did was use the word masturbate in a sentence.” I laugh again. Part of me just wants to see his reactions. His face is comical as if no woman has ever said the word masturbate to his face before.

“Have you seen yourself? You’re sexy as hell.”

Sexy as hell?

“Uh. I’m in a sweatshirt.” I pull at the thick fabric, cursing my choices for sleepwear, making a mental note to wear something thinner next time. A paper towel, perhaps? Or a camisole?

“Yeah. You look hot.”

I look like shit, but I’m not about to argue with a half-naked Adonis if he wants to compliment me, stained sweatshirt or not.

“Um. Thanks.”

He regards me through the phone, heavy eyebrows drawn into a straight line, making him appear serious.

“You sure you don’t need me to come over for anything?”

“No! I do not need you to come over for anything, least of all banging or nookie.” I yank at the hemline of my sweatshirt, pulling it down over my thighs even though he can’t see it. “Speaking of which. Maybe we should…”

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