Page 62 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“I’m not,” I reassured him. “Just looking for music.”
“Oh.”
As I’d hoped, soft jazz played through hidden speakers. “Maybe you could dim the lights a little?”
He sat back on his heels. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t look at him. He was soperfect. “You don’t have to have all the lights on, do you?”
His eyes widened. “Are you nervous?”
“Not necessarily.”
“When was the last time you did this?”
My cock wilted. “Why are you interrogating me?”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Last year some time.”
He sat back on his heels. “Jesus.”
“No, I think it was just some guy in a bar.”
He gave my knee a playful shove. “Dude.”
I rolled onto my side, effectively shutting him out while I gathered my nerve.
“So it’s been a while,” he mused, “and you’re not feeling it?”
“No, that’s not it. I’m totally feeling it.”
“Oh, yeah. I can tell by the way your cock deflated.” His head came over my shoulder, bangs tickling my skin as he kissed under my ear. “Didn’t I say the secret password?”
“Stop.”
“Okay.” He went still. “What do you need.”
“Just dim the lights.”
“Because it’s too bright in here?”
I nodded.
He rubbed my shoulder and the top of my arm. “How will I be able to see every part of my very hot lover if it’s dark?”
“When he arrives, you could turn the lights back on.”
He pulled me to my back again. “You total tool. Do you think I can’t tell you’re comparing again?”
“I’m not,” I lied. “I’m…more comfortable in flattering light.”
“Oh. I see.”
“So…”
He got up and adjusted the lighting. There was a dimmer switch on the wall and a remote that controlled flameless candle sets around the room. The result was so much better. Romantic.
