“Oh.” She paused, chewed that over. He would have given a million bucks to know what she was thinking about right then. “Are you a...Dom?”
God, she was so cute trying to get that word out. The blush on her cheeks grew brighter. He leaned in, fitting his body to hers. “If you’re asking if I go to clubs and wear leather, only when I’m riding my bike.”
“You have a motorcycle?” Her lips parted, her breath catching.
“Do you ride?” He flattened his left palm on the tree beside her head, caging her in place. His right curled around her hip, stroking the soft skin exposed by her suit.
“Motorcycles are dangerous.”
“You don’t see the fun side of the danger in the ER,” he said.
“Road rash. Lower extremity injuries. Ejection into the path of oncoming traffic. Should I keep going?”
“You’d like riding with me. Imagine what it would be like.”
“I’ve seen the accidents,” she pointed out.
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “It’s my turn to talk. I put you on the bike in front of me so I can wrap my arms around you. We take off down the road. It’s empty, so I can take us fast. The motor vibrates between your thighs as I gun the engine and push us to ninety—”
“You’re going to kill us,” she interjected.
“You’re spoiling my story. When I can’t wait to touch you any longer, I pull over onto the edge of the road. We’re alone, just you and me, the road and the bike. I lift you off the bike, bend you over the seat and lift your skirt.”
She made a face. “I’m wearing a skirt on a motorcycle? Because that seems really stupid.”
“This is my fantasy, sweetheart. I get your panties around your ankles and I’m pounding you hard, your hands gripping the bike.”
“I think I’d be demanding more foreplay than that.” She sounded breathless, though.
He shrugged. “That’s one of mine. You tell me one of yours. We can compare notes.”
She hesitated. He figured the best way to get what he wanted—her—was to keep pushing. She was driven, a perfectionist and damned curious.
“You have to tell me what you want. That’s how this game works.”
“You want me to beg?” The expression on her face made it clear that begging would happen when hell froze over. Twice. That was okay by him. He didn’t want to humiliate or control her, but he fully intended to have the upper hand in bed.
“I want you to tell me what you want.”
“And then?”
She liked things spelled out. In fact, she’d probably prefer a numbered list of sex acts. He bit back a grin. God, she was fun. He didn’t know if she’d let him sleep with her more than once—he didn’t need a memo from the good doctor to understand that theirs was a temporary relationship with an expiration date—so he planned on making tonight count. And count and count.
“And then I give you what you asked for.”
“It’s that simple?” Yeah, her voice held plenty of doubt. He’d have to teach her that he always followed through and got the job done.
“Try me.”
“I’m out, taking a walk, going for a jog. Having a good time at the corner bar. It doesn’t matter where, but then I see you. You’re watching me and you buy me a drink, which is really cheesy, but you’re trying to be nice, so I buy you one back so we’re even.”
“Does this drink have a name?”
She nodded. “You’re a beer guy, but I order you something really girly, with one of those ridiculous names I can’t believe I’m saying to the bartender. Fortunately, the bartender’s a woman, so she’s on my side. She serves you the Much Fuss for the Conquering Hero with two parasols and so many cherries on top that you can’t even see the drink. And you have to use the little blue straw.”
“I’m a good sport.” She was that and fun, too.
She grinned at him. “I think so. But then you order me a shot to get even. A whole row of shots. The bartender is laughing, but she’s making her rent money off our tips alone and she enjoys a good joke, so she lines the shots up in front of me.”
“What did I send you?”
“I have four drinks to choose from. Bend Me Over, and I know you’re thinking about me, about what we could be doing. It’s not a bad offer, but it’s not my fantasy tonight.”
“Classy of me. And the second shot?”
“A Tender Touch. Tequila, peppermint and Tabasco. It’s not what I want. I don’t want sweet.”
He could feel his lips tugging upward. “At least I had enough taste not to send you anything named after body parts.”