Can't Fix Cupid

Warren looks down with an arched brow. “What’s happening there?”

I follow his gaze at my skanky legs. “Don’t know. A touch to the tummy is like a sex button, I guess.”

He chuckles. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Might come in handy.”

I’m gonna come in real handy if he keeps rubbing me like that. I have to physically stop myself from nuzzling up against him like a damn cat looking for some scraps.

Looking up at him, I take a moment to revel in our closeness. Man, his morning voice coupled with his morning wood, plus his adorably sexy morning hair… It makes me want to lick every inch of him.

“Feel free to lick me anytime,” he says with a smile tugging at his lips, letting me know that I accidentally said that out loud.

“You exhausted me last night, Mr. Knight,” I say. I let my fingers toy over the ridges of his stomach. “The sea sex was awesome. Ocean orgasms should definitely have been first on my to-do list,” I say.

“Hindsight twenty-twenty.”

I nod in agreement. “But then the bed sex was good too. I’ve moved you up to a solid A minus now.”

“Oh, really?” he says, reaching over and hauling me up on top of him. I straddle his waist, my hands perched on his abdomen as I balance myself. From this angle, I get a very nice “hi there and hello” from his friendly staff.

“Just an A minus?” he challenges as he grips me by the waist.

“Like I said, always room for improvement.”

“You’re going to have to pay for that, my darling Valentine.”

I love it when he calls me that.

“Psh,” I scoff. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His eyes light up. That should’ve been my first warning. “Well, that was the wrong thing to say,” he murmurs with mirth. That should’ve been my second warning.

Apparently, I’m bad at warnings.

One second, his hands are firmly on my waist, and the next, he starts drumming and poking into my sides, making my muscles jump and my mouth pop open in surprise as sensation pings into me.

Immediately, mortifying snorts of laughter mixed in with animal screeches that I didn’t know I was capable of making, come tumbling out of my mouth as I desperately try to get away from his assault.

Of course, he locks me in place with his legs as I continue to try to buck off and flail away.

“What’s happening?” I squeal.

His fingers dig into my sides, over my ribs, in my armpits, on the inside of my thighs...and I fricken lose it, laughing so hard that I feel abs forming as I plead with him.

“Why...what...no!” I pant through bellows of chortling guffaws.

“You’re so fucking ticklish,” he says in delight between his own bouts of laughter that he’s letting out at my expense.

“I don’t like it!” I howl.

“You’re laughing,” he points out.

“It’s the worst!” Tears of hysterical giggles stream down my face, my smile so wide that my cheeks hurt.

“Tell me I have an A plus, and I’ll stop.”

“Never!” I am woman. Hear me snort.

His eyes glitter with predatory challenge. “Wrong answer.”