Page 73 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
She’s getting frustrated, fidgeting underneath me like she wants to bolt and run. “Let me up.”
“No.”
“Connor—”
Into her ear, I say very deliberately, “You can love how I talk to you without having to commit the rest of your life to me, princess.”
She stills. The color is high in her cheeks. Her heart is pounding.
My heart is melting like a fucking ice cube in the sun.
“It doesn’t have to be a four-letter word between us. Okay?”
Her lips twist. “Except it is a four-letter word.”
“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe we should add a letter to get us out of the danger zone if you feel the need to use the word again.”
She glances at me warily, her cheeks still red.
“To describe how you feel about my sexual prowess, of course.”
She groans. “God. I’ve created a monster.”
Ignoring
that, I muse, “How about…slove. ‘I slove the way you talk to me.’” Then I make a face. “No. That’s weird.”
Tabby covers her face with a hand. “This is all weird!”
For whatever bizarre reason, this conversation is making me hard again. I guess my dick is as excited about Tabby’s Freudian slip as I am. “What about this: ‘glove.’ That’s an actual word so it’s not as weird. ‘Connor, I absolutely glove that enormous cock of yours! Will you please let me lick it again?’”
In spite of herself, Tabby laughs. She tries to smother it, keep her lips pressed together, but her body shakes with the effort.
“Too obvious? You’re right. It should be something no one else would recognize. Our little code word, don’t you think? Something that won’t give it away if you accidentally slip and say it in front of anyone else.” I think for a moment, and then pronounce, “Loathe!”
Tabby looks at me like I’m a nut job. “What?”
“Loathe. It’s got three of the same letters as love but it’s the opposite, so it’ll make you feel really happy when you’re saying it since you can’t stand me and everything. For instance, ‘Connor, I loathe your sense of humor as much as I loathe your face!’ It’s genius, right?”
Beaming, I look at her for confirmation. She’s doing this adorable thing where she’s laughing and groaning and shaking her head, all at once. “You’re crazy!”
I give her a soft bite on her neck. “I was fine before I met you, princess. Now look at me. I need a straitjacket.”
She freezes.
“What is it?”
She blinks rapidly, swallowing, the color draining from her face. “What? Nothing.”
“Yeah,” I say drily, “I’m calling bullshit on that, sweetheart. Spill.”
With sudden vehemence, Tabby snaps, “We don’t have to talk about everything!”
She shoves me in the chest, hard, and leaps from the bed, leaving me stunned by the sudden change in her mood.
I watch her stalk around the room, snatching up the clothes she’d left hanging over the arm of the sofa and the back of the chair, muttering something under her breath.
“You’re giving me whiplash here, princess.”
