Shacking Up(68)

"You're a little bossy aren't you?" I don't argue, though, I wouldn't mind a drink, and sometimes it's important to celebrate, even if it's the little things. I pour myself a glass while he orders room service. I'm halfway through glass number one by the time his bottle arrives. Bancroft insists I top my glass up, so I do.

"So tell me about this job of yours," he says, as I make my way back to his bedroom, where I've left Francesca.

If I'd gotten a role in an actual play it wouldn't be an issue. But this is not quite the same. "It's like . . . dinner theater." They serve food there, so it counts. Sort of.

"That's good isn't it?"

"It's a start and a paycheck."

"Both good things."

"Exactly. How about you? How're things in London?" I settle back on his bed.

"Running smoothly now. I'm looking forward to coming home. It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

"I bet. It's a nice bed. You must miss it."

"I do. Especially right now."

"Why right now?"

"Because you're in it."

I prop the phone up against a pillow and rest my chin on my fist. I'm trying not to take that the way I want to. I lower my voice to a sultry whisper. "Are you jealous?"

He gives me the evil eye. "Maybe a little."

"Just a little?" I stretch my arms and legs out, starfishing on top of the comforter. "Look at how much room I have." I make a big production of rolling back and forth across the king-size bed. "It's so firm," I groan and roll to one side, then roll back the other way until I'm in front of the screen again on my stomach. "And it's so big," I draw out the word big and flutter my lashes, biting my lip through a grin.



       
         
       
        

Bancroft's tongue peeks out and then disappears. "You know, I'm going to be home soon and I'll be able to get you back for all this tormenting."

"You think I'm tormenting you?"

"Are you trying to tell me you're not, with the way you're moaning, rolling around on my bed, dressed the way you are." He gestures to me from his side of the screen.

I push up on my arms. My tank gapes at the chest as I sit back on my heels. It's one of those ones with the built-in bra. I run a hand over my camisole. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"Are you fucking shitting me with that question, Ruby?"

"I'm ready for bed."

"I can see your nipples."

I cup my breasts. "It's cold. The air-conditioning is always on full blast in here."

"Are you even wearing a bra?" Bancroft's arm unfurls, the hand tucked behind his head is suddenly on the move, down his chest and then out of sight.

I lean in, as if it's going to change my view. "What're you doing?"

"Aren't you going to answer my question?"

His bicep is flexing. What the hell is he doing?

"Ruby?"

I shift my gaze up. "Huh?"

"My question? Are you going to answer it or not?"

I'm too busy trying to figure out where his hand has gone to pay attention to questions. "Um . . . what was it again?"

"You're not wearing a bra, are you?"

"No." His bicep keeps flexing, it's mesmerizing.

"What about panties?"

Dear lord. When his voice drops like that it makes me want to take off all my clothes.

"You should just do that."

"What?"

"Take off all your clothes."

Shit. I must have said that aloud. "You want me to roll around on your bed naked?"

"Yes."

"While you watch?" I can't tell if he's serious or joking.

"Fuck yes. Or maybe just in your panties if you're feeling shy."

Sweet baby Jesus. I'm pretty sure we're crossing every platonic line there is tonight. I also think Bancroft might be a bit of a dirty boy, which is fine by me. "What if I'm not wearing panties?" I rise up on my knees which means only my chest to mid-thigh is visible to him.

"Even better."

I ease my hands down my sides until I reach the waistband of my shorts. As far as shorts go, they don't really cover much, and half the time they double as underwear, which is pretty much their function right now. I hook a thumb in each side of the waistband and drag it down over my hips. 

"Oh shit," Bancroft groans.

I keep pulling them lower, but I stop before I give him a real peek at the goods. Then I trail the fingers of one hand back up. Catching the hem of my cami I start lifting, up over my navel.

"Tell me about the belly ring," Bancroft says.