"Where did you go?" he asked. "You looked about a million miles away." He leaned forward, taking my hand across the table. "You're not having second thoughts because of what I said, are you?" He looked so tense, so I scrambled for something to say to make him laugh. Might as well be honest, as long as he didn't know it...
"No, no! I was just picturing you in a loincloth," I said with a straight face. Barely. My cheeks flamed even hotter. He looked shocked; then he laughed that wonderful, smooth laugh again. "And no more of that heavy talk. I like you, and that's final. We're going to get to know each other, and there's nothing you can do about it." I punctuated that sentence with a firm nod, just so he'd know that I meant business. He held up both hands in a mea culpa gesture.
"What kind of loincloth?" he asked after a moment, raising one eyebrow. I think he was trying to look sinister, but it was seriously turning me on.
"What do you mean what kind? There's more than one?" Shit, I was giggling again.
"Of course, Bella! There's the Tarzan loincloth, which is usually made of some type of ragged animal skin, and the slave loincloth, made of rough fabric – probably really scratchy on sensitive areas -"
"Stop, stop! I can't handle it!" I was giggling even louder.
"I think you can handle it, Bella." Those damn sexy eyes were shining with mirth. "You started it. If you're going to fantasize about me in a loincloth, you'd better make sure the material feels nice rubbing against what's under it."
I know my mouth was hanging wide open at this point. He was throwing down the gauntlet. I couldn't let him get to me like this; he had too many advantages already.
"I don't think the type of loincloth would matter. You see, the way I was picturing it, you wouldn't be wearing it long enough for it to bother you."
The smirk disappeared and he shifted in his seat. He looked a bit dazed.
The girls dropped to their knees in supplication.
We're not worthy! We're not worthy!
Now it was my turn to smirk.
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