Page 36 of The Hang Up
“What?”
He held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just telling you what my client tried. But hey, I’m game for anything.”
“Water,” she said and picked up her glass. “I’ll try the stuff with the water.” She started to take a drink, then frowned. “Wait, how am I supposed to plug my ears and hold a glass at the same time?”
“You could get a straw,” he suggested. “Or we could make it a two-person job.”
She hesitated, thinking about it. She’d already embarrassed herself enough during this meal. Did she really want to humiliate herself by having this guy stick his fingers in her ears? Maybe if she tried?—
Hiccup!
“Okay,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “Will you please plug my ears?”
“My pleasure.” Jason stood up, flexing his fingers with dramatic flair.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Miriam said, trying to stifle another hiccup as he pushed in his chair and stepped closer, making goose bumps prickle her arms.
“Hey, you got to bail me out when I was covered in mud and locked out of my house,” he said. “It’s only fair that I come to your aid when you need a couple of fingers stuck in your?—”
Hiccup!
“Nice timing on that one,” he said with a smirk. “Just shut up and stick ’em in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He moved behind her, and Miriam felt conscious of the big, solid heat of him. She felt his fingers slide into her hair, and he pushed it back off her face. His palms were warm where they grazed the edges of her cheekbones, and Miriam thought of the way Phuzeei purred when she stroked the sides of his face.
She was on the brink of purring herself.
“Ready?” he asked, and his voice was almost a growl. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, ready for just about anything he cared to offer.
Miriam picked up her water glass and braced herself for another hiccup. Nothing, at least not yet. She drew the glass to her lips. “Okay,” she said.
His fingers grazed the edges of her earlobes, and Miriam shivered. He slid his fingertips upward, dipping softly into the shells of her ears. It should have been weird. It should have been a turnoff.
But it was neither of those things. There was something ridiculously intimate about it, about feeling those thick, warm fingers pressing into her, those large thumbs skimming the edges of her lobes. She could feel his belt buckle against the nape of her neck, or at least she thought it was his belt buckle. Was he as turned on as she was?
Miriam tipped her head back and parted her lips, sipping at the icy water. She swallowed, marveling at the sensation of doing it with someone’s fingers in her ears. Her senses seemed duller and heightened all at once. He heard the thrum of her own heartbeat, along with the strangeglug-glugof water moving down her throat. She kept breathing, her lungs filling with the scent of rosemary and maybe Jason’s soap. His hands felt huge and warm on the edges of her face, and she kept swallowing, since it seemed like a good alternative to turning around and grabbing his ass.
“Keep going,” he said, or at least that’s what it sounded like. She couldn’t hear very well with his fingers in her ears.
“Swallow,” he commanded, and she did it, getting more turned on by the minute. This was ridiculous. There was nothing erotic about a guy sticking his fingers in her ears while she gulped ice water and tried not to make a fool of herself with another obnoxious diaphragm spasm.
At last, she set her glass down, her breath coming fast even though she hadn’t done anything strenuous. Jason’s fingertips slid from her ears, and felt stupid for missing the warmth.
He sat down next to her, grinning, his knee bumping hers beneath the table. “How’s that?”
She waited, breathing in and out, checking in with herself. “Good, I think.” She took a few more breaths, waiting for another hiccup. Nothing. She looked at him and grinned. “I think I’m cured.”
“Excellent.”
“Yay!”
“High five,” he said, and held up his massive palm. She had no choice but to smack her hand against his. It didn’t budge, the palm solid and enormous against hers.
“Okay, give me some more etiquette tips,” he said as he eased back in his chair. “Seems like talking might be your trigger, so let’s put that to the test.”
“All right.” She tried to think of something she hadn’t already covered. “Okay. No elbows on the table at any point during the meal.”
