On Sale for Christmas

"A kink, huh?" Nudging the cookies out of my reach, he said, "So, you wanna be spanked. Ropes, blindfolds, whips and chains?"

I shrugged. "Much dirtier than that."

I made a grab for the cookies, but getting close to him was a mistake, because he caught me by the belt loop to my jeans, and corralled me between his knees. My breath caught at being tugged so close to him. At the warmth of his legs around mine. At the way he looked up at me so intensely.

"Dirtier?" he asked. "Becca, you've gotta tell me now. Or else, I'll know you're all talk. C'mon. Shock me. I dare you."

I swallowed, not sure how to respond to this new, more aggressively flirtatious Ben. I had no intention of telling him my fantasies, but I found that I didn't want to shove him away either…

I could just make up a lie. That'd be easier than telling him. Heck, I'm not sure I'd ever really admitted the truth to myself. And now I felt slightly dizzied. Terrified, really. "Fine. You called my bluff, Ben. There's no dark fantasy."

Both his eyebrows lifted. "You're a really bad liar for an actress. So you're going to make me guess. Ok, then I've gotta assume you want to be a pony girl."

I nearly choked. "What?"

"You don't know what a pony girl is?"

"Yes, I know," I hissed. "But how do you know?"

He grinned. "This may come as a shock to you, City Slicker. But I've had access to a thing called the internet. So is that your kink? You want to play a round of giddy-up?"

He was teasing, but remained remarkably sober, as if steeling himself in case he'd actually guessed right. And something about his effort to keep a straight face, no matter what I might say, was unexpectedly endearing. "No. No pony girl fantasies…"

"Then tell me," he said, his thumbs gently caressing my hips where his fingers still looped in my jeans. And I felt a spark of definite sexual heat pass between us. Could the boy next door have somehow become…sexy?

I wanted to reach forward and muss up his hair. Yank open the tie he'd worn to the party. Bite his lower lip. Roll over him like a sexual hurricane, leaving him wrecked in my aftermath. Maybe it was because of his admission that he'd been crushing on me since we were in braces. Or maybe it was because I didn't want to admit to myself that there might be more to him than met the eye. But suddenly I wanted to shock him.

"It's a call girl fantasy," I said, all bravado. "I want to get paid for it." Having said the words, I wasn't cold anymore. In fact, I was quite warm. Blushing all over. And the hottest parts of my body were the places that touched him.

I waited for his wide-eyes. The uncomfortable laugh. Or even the lascivious veil that falls over a man's eyes when you become an object to him. And for a moment, I was sure Ben was going to do something awful, like pull out his wallet, and ask me how much I'd charge. Instead, his eyes narrowed with intensity. "So, what's the catch?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's got to be a catch," he said. "Because a call girl fantasy doesn't sound so weird. Pretty Woman. All those books about Billionaires and their Bought Brides. Sounds pretty normal to think about. Unless…you're looking for a career change?"

"No, it's just a fantasy. I want to be a total whore."

I used the word to shock him. To make him let me go. But instead, he asked, "Do you like that word?"

My mouth went a little dry. "I—I don't know. It sounds really wrong. Humiliating. Degrading. But it also makes my pulse beat a little faster."

"Yeah." His heated eyes never left mine.

"Okay, so, now you know. Are we done here?"

"Not even close," he said, thumbs pressing harder into my hip bones. "I can make your fantasy come true, you know."

That was the wrong thing to say and I gave him a little shove. "I don't want you to. Besides, it can't be you that buys me. And I hope you're satisfied, because now I'm creeped out."

"Whoa," he said, releasing the loops of my jeans all at once. "Did I read this situation wrong? I thought we were flirting, having a good time. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a creeper—"

"Crap, no. I shouldn't have said that," I replied, cringing all the while. "I'm not creeped out, I swear. Just embarrassed, and a little turned on…" He smiled at that last bit, at least until I added, "And a lot awkward. So maybe we can just go back to the party, eat some cookies, and forget we ever had this conversation."

&nb

sp; "You don't want to go back to that party any more than I do. And I don't think either of us are going to forget this conversation."

I bit my lower lip. "But I really can't look at you right now."