Blush(80)

“Of course not.”

“Intriguing.” A small smile curved the firm line of his mouth, and his eyes glittered. He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, making her shiver. “What does SWS mean?”

“We have plenty more interesting subjects to talk about—” He raised an eyebrow. What the hell. “Sex with a stranger.”

He didn’t look shocked. “I presume this check mark is for me?”

“Other than the entire football team at Stanford, that night of a drunken orgy, yep. You’re the only stranger I’ve ever had sex with.”

Dipping his head, he closed his mouth on hers. Her lips and teeth parted to allow him entry as her body melted. Oblivious to the crowded restaurant, to the noise, to any observers, her hands fisted in his hair and she sank into the taste and texture of him.

He gathered her close, fingers tangled in her hair. Mia was always in such a state of heightened awareness around him that she was turned on instantly.

He was the one who released the hold first. Dazed, she blinked up at him. The look he gave her could melt the polar ice caps. He tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Eighteen: PD? Pole dancing, I’m guessing. How about number one, LTD?”

Her lips still buzzed, and her heartbeat thudded in her pulse points. “Learn to drive. Eleven is pump gas, and thirteen was buy a car. I thought the truck was more kick-ass.” Her smile felt strained. She was preternaturally aware of his every small movement, from the flick of his silver-tipped black lashes to the stern line of his mouth. That long dimple was nowhere in sight, but just knowing it was there, to emerge if and when he gave her a real smile, was tantalizing. Her body leaned toward him like a flower toward the sun.

“You skipped number eight.” He pointed. Just looking at his big hand on the light tablecloth made Mia feel as though she were in the tropics. Flushed, and covered in prickly heat that made it feel as if she had on far too many clothes.

SIP. Sex in public. The idea, intriguing and titillating when she’d jotted down her long to-do list a month ago, now seemed silly at least, and downright embarrassing at worst. Especially with Cruz’s hot eyes inches from hers, daring her to give up all her secrets.

“Sun in—” She couldn’t make up anything fast enough, especially when his eyes were filled with heat and humor.

He saw right through her.

“Liar.” Cruz grinned, flashing white teeth and that elusive long dimple in his left cheek. His rare smile did something strange to her insides, turning them to liquid fire, which in turn suffused her skin with heat. He was a dangerous, dangerous man.

“This first letter definitely stands for sex. . . .”

Mia kept her mouth closed. SIP could represent just about anything.

“In public?” His smile turned devilishly predatory. “Seriously?”

She gave him an innocent wide-eyed look as her pounding heart kicked up into overdrive. “Not in this lifetime, Barcelona.”

He gave her a wicked look that made her nipples peak and her mouth go dry. “I’d hate for you to not fulfill your wildest fantasies, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? “Learning to drive wasn’t a fantasy, smart-ass. Nor was learning how to bake cookies for that matter.”

“That’s because you seeded all the fun stuff in between.”

“Not intentionally. I never expected anyone else to read this.” When she reached for the paper, he quickly folded it along the same fold lines, picked it up, and put it in his back pocket. “Give it back.”

“No. I’m keeping it as a memento.”

Mia shook her head. “To put in your scrapbook?” She couldn’t imagine Cruz being sentimental.

“I’ve never been one to keep trophies.” His voice was dry. “Too incriminating.”

“I can imagine— What are you doing?” she asked, startled, as he ducked under the table, completely disappearing from sight under the shroud of the tablecloth.

“I dropped my napkin.”

“Ask for another one when the waiter—” She’d never seen anyone disappear beneath a table to pick up a napkin. His palms glided up her thighs under her dress. Her blood heated, and she felt a thrill of excitement. Surely he wouldn’t . . . No way! Cruz? No way!

“I’m bored waiting for dinner.” His voice was slightly muffled. “I thought I’d snack while I wait.”

Mia looked around the crowded, noisy restaurant as his hands skated up her thighs. Goose bumps rose on her skin. “You can’t be . . . be—” Hooking his fingers into the top band of her bikini panties, he slid them down her hips, until the crease between belly and thigh prevented them from going any farther.