“Like slip-and-slide fun?” I had to ask.
His eyes darkened. “There is sliding involved.”
A shiver ran through my entire body as he put the car in drive, and for the rest of the night, even through dinner with two kids, all I could think about was sliding.
Sliding with Rip.
And our bodies sliding against each other.
And I could have sworn he knew it too, because before I went to bed, he left a bottle of oil outside my door with a note that said, “Sweet dreams.”
If that was how he wanted to play it.
Game. On.
I wasn’t surprised when I brushed my teeth before bed and saw my reflection in the mirror.
Flushed.
Excited.
Yeah, that plan had definitely backfired. There I’d been, arrogantly thinking I was going to help him get outside his crabby shell—and he’d thrown my world off its axis and made it so all I thought about was him—and the sides he’d never shown me.
Until tonight.