Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,30

sturdy Jake wrapped in coils of rope—and nothing else. Of course, not here in the restaurant, but she’d file the idea away for later use.

“Would you like that, Ivy?”

“Maybe.” She gave her next words careful consideration. “I think you’re used to being in charge and that may not work for me. Not all the time.”

Her words seemed to hit him like mortar. She waited for him to respond.

“I don’t have to be in the driver’s seat. Not all the time.” But he still wore a stunned expression.

“This is great—our ability to communicate so effectively.” A new spin on his words, but the sentiment was true. She loved that she was able to talk to Jake, to tell him how she felt, what she wanted, needed. And that he was so responsive. She had to remember to be as open to his needs. “What do you like, Jake?”

If he was fumbling on the edge of consciousness before, her new words were a knockout. She waited for him to gather his senses.

“What do I like?” he sought to clarify.

“Yes. What do you want from me?” She checked her watch. “In one hour and thirty-seven minutes.”

He didn’t need to think further. “I want you to respond to me as openly as you have here tonight.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she assured him. “What’s your sweet spot?”

“My sweet spot?”

“We all have one, right? You know, ‘touch me there and I’ll go crazy.’ And give me something more than the obvious.”

“But I’m an all-American boy.” He smiled and it was full and wicked.

Ivy took another bite of her strudel and then touched her tongue to the corner of her lips to catch an errant morsel. His eyes followed the movement and his smile slowly faded as intent burned in his eyes.

“I’m asking for requests,” she tempted him, loving the word play. She loved what it was doing for both of them. “And, just so you know, I won’t be giving away any secrets until I have a few of yours.”

He shook his head. “No way. It’s one-for-one.” He sat forward and reached across the table where he smoothed a crumb off her lip. “And ladies first,” he invited.

“Good move.”

“It’s honorable.”

“And very convenient,” Ivy agreed. “But the woman is asking and it would be equally chivalrous to provide an accurate answer.”

His face turned thoughtful but his eyes level as he considered her request.

“One revelation a piece,” he suggested. “The rest on discovery.”

“Just enough direction to make sure we’re on the right track.” She could live with that.

“How do you feel about feet?”

“Feet?” She’d never considered them before. Not in the same thought as sex.

“Toes, in particular,” he went on.

“As in—“

“As in each one a lollipop.”

The shock must have shown on her face. There was a long pause between them.

“Is it a deal-breaker?” Jake asked.

“It never occurred to me,” she admitted. And thinking about it now, well, wasn’t at all appealing. She focused her gaze on her silverware, running her fingertips over the scalloped edges as she tried to figure out exactly how she felt about it, except uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. She was just admitting to herself that maybe she wasn’t as adventurous as she’d thought, when she heard a rumbling from across the table. The rumble grew into short gasps and when she looked up she found Jake holding his stomach with one hand as he erupted into a full gale of laughter.

“Oh, that was good,” he said, when he was able to speak. “His hand clapped the table a few times. “You should have seen your face.”

“Funny.”

“You need to be ready for anything, with a question like that.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the only reason you did it.”

“We needed to break the tension,” he admitted. “But tell me the truth, you didn’t once doubt that I was serious, did you?”

“I didn’t get that far.”

“There are still some things we don’t know about each other,” he pointed out.

“Important things,” Ivy agreed.

“Did I change your mind?”

“About having sex with you? No. I was trying to come to terms with fetishes,” she admitted.

“I don’t have any,” he promised. The laughter left his eyes as he focused on her question. “Without stating the obvious,” he recapped, “my neck. That’s the general geography. You’ll have to find the trigger.”

Relief unraveled her breath. She felt her shoulders relax and her hand gave up the death grip she’d had on her fork. “I’ll enjoy the journey.”

“Now you,” he demanded. “What’s your sweet spot, Ivy?”

She thought about that. Neither of the men she’d been