Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook (Man of the Month 13)

"Come here."

One eyebrow rose. "Why?"

"Come. Here."

She narrowed her eyes, but she stood, a little bit wobbly, and not in an Emily Post approved manner, either. But he didn't complain--even if the quick flash of her pale blue panties almost sent him over the edge.

He casually grabbed a pillow and put it on his lap, then pointed in front of him. She moved to stand there, but eyed him dubiously.

"What?"

He didn't answer. Just reached out and cupped his hand around her leg, just above the knee. Slowly, he slid his hand up, stroking her thigh, feeling the firm, taut muscles. Feeling her tremble.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "Definitely a runner's leg."

She exhaled, a low, soft sound that curled inside of him. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to know all the little noises she made. And she wasn't stopping him. He could keep moving up and up and up, and dear God he was so tempted to touch every inch of her and--

A sharp knock at the door made them both jump, and she scrambled that way, not looking at him.

"Who is it?"

"Party patrol!"

She looked over her shoulder and tossed him a grin. He wondered if her thoughts tracked his--he was thinking that the patroller had just killed one potential party.

She opened the door. A neighbor he recognized--John? Maybe Jake?--stood there with an empty Lone Star beer bottle.

"Dude, you're missing out. We're about to play spin the bottle. We're totally going retro."

"Sounds great," Eric said. "We'll be down soon."

"Will we?" she asked, closing the door, and while her words sent shockwaves of anticipation scurrying through him like electrons, he wasn't sure if he was hearing what he thought he was hearing.

She came back, this time sitting on the couch beside him, so close he caught the scent of vanilla. "I'm surprised it's spin the bottle," she said. "I thought Never Have I Ever was all the rage now."

"I've been out of school for a couple of years now. Despite the west campus address, I'm pretty out of touch with those wacky kids today."

"But you know the game, right? You ask a question. And if you have done it, you drink. And in the version my friends and I've played, if you haven't done it, you have to eradicate that omission if at all possible, right then and there."

"Give me a for example."

"Never have I ever eaten ice cream," she said. "I have, so I drink." She finished off her margarita. "And then I'd have to eat ice cream. But don't make me," she added. "It wouldn't mix with the margie."

"You're in luck, because I don't have any. But you're also out of your drink."

She tilted her head. "Does that mean you want to play?"

"Why not?"

"Cool." She got up and went to the kitchen, then came back with the blender, with enough still in it for each of them to have a fresh glass. Then she sat down next to him on the couch, her glass in hand. "Okay, you go first."

"All right. Never have I ever kissed a girl." He took a long sip of his margarita and kept his eyes on her, amused at the way her brows rose.

"Diving right into the good stuff, huh? Or are you just trying to work up a good bedtime fantasy?"

He was still swallowing, and he almost choked on the last comment, but she just batted her eyes and looked innocent. Then she took a drink.

"Who?" he said.