Page 93 of The Playboy

“Ha!”

His eyes narrowed. “Unless we’re talking about me begging to lick your pussy—then it’s all right.”

A wave of tingles passed through me. “Is that what you’re asking for now?”

“Not yet, but only because the night is so young.”

I smiled, instantly wet from the thought, the feeling causing me to wiggle in my seat.

“I want to know everything about you, Brooklyn. Tell me, besides going to the beach and the club, what are some of the things you like to do when you’re not working or doing shit for school?”

“Hmm.” My hand left the cup and went into my lap, where I linked all my fingers together. “That’s hard because both have monopolized me for the last four years.” I continued to think as I stared at him. “Music and dancing—those are things I obviously love. Whenever my sisters and I travel to The Big Island to see my parents, we try to catch a concert while we’re there. And I really enjoy taking walks on the beach. Long ones. At least four or five miles, where I can lose myself.”

“Just like you do at the club.”

“Yes.” My list of enjoyments was short. It was easier to tell him the things I wasn’t into or I didn’t have time or money to explore, so I added, “You know fashion isn’t a priority. I’m not much of a foodie either. Don’t get me wrong, I love food, but I’m a bargain eater.” I moved in closer to the edge of the table so no one could hear me. “The sushi I typically get is at a place super close to where we live. On Tuesdays, they have a half-off menu. When my sisters are free, we go and eat our weight in rolls.”

“Which means you eat about one.”

I laughed. “Come on. Give me a little more credit. I can put down four on a good day.” I winked. “As for traveling, I haven’t done any—not on my own or with my sisters. I’ve told you, I’m an Army brat, and we’ve lived all over, so I’ve seen other places from all our moves, but we’ve never vacationed as a family unless it was somewhere nearby, like an amusement park or a beach. In the last four years, besides here, the only place I’ve flown to was The Big Island to see Mom and Dad.”

He rubbed his thumb against the side of his mouth, the whiskers beneath making an enticing sound. “Do you want to travel?”

“Desperately.” The answer was there—I hadn’t even needed to think about it. “I feel like I’ve seen nothing, and I want to see everything.”

“Where would you start?”

I laughed. “Japan sounds nice. Their sushi is calling to me.”

“You’re cute.”

“But I’m serious. I follow tons of travel accounts on social media, and I’m so envious of their adventures. I want to experience everything that they see. Dubai and Africa. Thailand and Nepal. Venezuela and Alaska. I could keep going.” I leaned back in my seat since there was no longer a need to whisper. “I want to learn the history and absorb the sights and landscapes and fill my phone storage with pictures that aren’t just of the South Shore of Kauai. Our beach is beautiful, I’m not dissing it, but there’s so much more to explore. I feel confined.”

His brows rose. “Confinedis an interesting way to put it.”

I tucked all my hair onto my left shoulder, freeing up the bareness of my right collarbone. Macon immediately noticed, instantly looking there. It was a spot that was his favorite, and his posture softened before his eyes rose to mine.

“I’ve been in school for four years,” I told him. “I’ve taken classes throughout each summer and even during Christmas break. Even if I had the cash to go somewhere magical, which I don’t, I’d be too consumed with my assignments and studying to be able to focus on what was in front of me. That’s confinement at its best.”

“I can appreciate that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “School is consuming. It owned me for four years as well.”

“Where did you go?”

“University of Colorado.”

“The one in Boulder, right?”

He nodded.

“Is it as pretty as it looks there?”

“Prettier.” He took a sip of water. “They wanted me to play soccer, like I had in high school, but I didn’t want to be a student athlete chained to practices and games—and feel confined.” He grinned. “I wanted to have fun, so that was what I did.”

The thought of him in soccer shorts and his tight, defined calves wasn’t an image I hated.

Neither was the high school version of Macon—I envisioned hair that was too long and patchy scruff on his face and that straight-out-of-the-shower look that every male senior had.

God, I was positive he was delicious at all ages.

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