Page 2 of Aced (Driven 4)
“You always have a plan,” I say with an exasperated laugh. “Bet my plan is better.”
“Lay it on me,” she deadpans and then realizes exactly what she’s said. I can feel the laugh she tries to hide vibrate from her back into my chest.
“How about we have sex first and then eat?” I suggest, knowing I’m driving her crazy. Her laugh rings around us, but for the first time since I’ve been home, I hear something different in her tone. Before I can give it much thought, she continues.
“Nope. That’s not the plan. And definitely not a compromise. Food first, then sex,” Rylee says as she shifts away and moves to face me. She crosses her arms over her chest and nods, trying to take a hard line with me.
“I love when you get all demanding.” I lean forward with a half-smile on my lips, knowing my comment will get her all riled up.
She narrows her eyes, and I can see her mind working to figure out a way to negotiate so she gets what she wants. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out what that is. I’ve been so absorbed in work—the narrow lead I have in points over Luke Mason going into Sonoma and all of the other shit that goes with it—I’ve obviously missed something.
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” she finally says. Her prior confidence, which had momentarily wavered, is back, and I’m more than ready for action.
“Good thing I drive a hard bargain,” I say with a quirk of my eyebrows as I glance down at her outfit.
I’ll drive more than a bargain, sweetheart.
“Oh, I know you do, Ace, but I think we need to leave it up to the fortune cookies to decide what we do next.” Her eyes light up with challenge while I start laughing at how ridiculous that sounds.
“The fortune cookies? What are you talking about?”
“Well . . . you said you wanted dessert first so I’m just trying to compromise,” she says with a bat of her eyelashes.
“Not that kind of dessert,” I state. There’s nothing I can do but shake my head at her and her asinine suggestion, but fuck, I’ll take any help I can get to speed up this process so I can slow it down with her. Come to think of it, I’m sure I can twist any of those stupid little fortunes to my benefit. So be it. Game on, Ryles. “It’s ridiculous,
but you planned this so you get to make the rules. Let’s just hope those fortunes say you need to have hot monkey sex with your husband.”
Her face lights up and her lips curve into a grin. She leans forward and grants me a great view of her cleavage as she starts rummaging through the plastic bag on the table. My eyes shift and focus on the dark pink of her nipples just beneath the sheer fabric, until she starts waving the cookies in front of my eyes with the smuggest of smiles.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and has no shame in playing it up as I work my tongue in my cheek, bide my time, and let her have this moment.
“Only three?” I ask when she sets them on the table in front of us. “How are we going to decide who gets the third one?”
“Since we’re learning to compromise . . .” Her voice trails off as she elbows me in the ribs. And just as she starts to pull away, I grab her arm, pull her into me, and press a chaste kiss on her mouth. It’s already been way too damn long since I kissed her. She swats me away when I try to slip my tongue between her lips. “Are you trying sway me for the third cookie, Donavan?”
“Did it work?” A man can always hope.
“Here. You go first,” she says, leaving me hanging without an answer as she holds the cookie in front of me by the cellophane. When I take it from her, she shifts so she sits square to me, her bent knee against my thigh, giving me a perfect view of her pussy. In a glance, I can make out the trim strip of her hair down there, and fuck if it doesn’t turn me on even more.
Fortune cookie gods, please be kind. Sex is needed.
“Okay. Let’s see,” I say as I pull the cookie out of the bag and break it with a dramatic flair, praying it’s a fortune I can work with. I pull the strip of paper out and shake my head as I read the words. Really? How fucking perfect is this?
“What does it say?” she asks as I laugh.
“It’s been a long race, but you’ve finally crossed the finish line.” I look up and she seems as amused as I am.
“I’d say that’s a fitting fortune,” she says, eyes narrowing as she contemplates the words. “I guess the real question is what race are they talking about?”
“Life?” I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”
She laughs and fidgets with the cookie in her hand. Why does she seem so on edge all of a sudden?
“You’re trying to figure out how that gets you sex, and I don’t think that helps you out in any way, shape, or form.”
Shit. She’s right. There’s no way to parlay this into me getting sex before food because if I’ve already crossed the proverbial finish line, it doesn’t bode well for me.
“Damn it. That’s a food-before-sex one. Don’t get cocky, Donavan. I’m primed for a comeback,” I say pushing her cookie toward her and taking a bite of mine, hoping this silly game will end soon, but am enjoying myself all at the same time. “Your turn.”
