Page 58 of Flaunt
A slow smile splits his cheeks. “I’m not sure.”
“Did you donate to an animal sanctuary or something?”
He scoffs. “Come on. Do I look like the kind of guy who donates to an animal sanctuary?”
“I don’t know,” I say, teasing him. “You did just buy a dozen baby chickens yesterday.”
“Ha. Wanna know what I bought today?”
I grimace.“Do I?”
“I bought Jess a shirt that says Chicken Dad,” he says, snickering.
“He’s going to kill you,” I say, laughing too.
His fingers swipe across his screen. “He’d have to catch me first.”
I peer over his shoulder.
Banks: So, what’s a girl peacock? A peavagina?
He chuckles and puts his phone in his pocket. The weight of the device tugs his waistband down a bit farther.
My body temperature skyrockets. I blame it on the sun. But, really, it’s the proximity of the top of his shorts to the top of his pubic bone that has me panting.
I’ve sat on his lap, so I know just how muscled Banks is. He’s all man, sex on a freaking stick, and how I’d love to trace my hands over his body.
Sex with him would be mind-blowing. I could imagine being on my knees, ready to take his—
“You ready to eat me?” he asks, picking up the box.
My head jerks up.What? I gasp. “Eat you?”How could he read my mind?
His brows pull together as he leans toward me. “Are you ready to eat?” He enunciates the words slowly. “Food. You know, dinner?”
“Oh, yes. Right. Yup. Ready to eat dinner. Let’s go.”
He looks at me over his muscled shoulder and smirks.
Breathe, Sara. Breathe.
12
Banks
I hate sheep.
Why do people say to count sheep when you can’t sleep? Does that really work for anyone? I’ve started counting them a hundred times tonight.That’s what I should’ve counted—how many times I started counting.
Every time I see the little white fluff balls hopping over a black fence, they smile at me. Then I smile back. Then I wonder what their names are, and why some of them have on bow ties and others little ribbons on their ears.And thenI begin to wonder if they have a sexy-as-hell woman in a bed across the house from them …
Fuck. Now I have to start all over.
I punch the mattress with both hands and groan.
My elbow hits my phone, and the screen lights up. It’s late, but notthat late.
Not late enough that I can’t text my sister.
