I did not miss the way his fingertips slid across the curve of my breast.
And he did not miss my soft moan or the way I licked my lips.
“Fuck,” he rumbled. “What’s the prize for winning this little trivia thing?”
“Little?” I scoffed, using his wrist to remove his hand. “I think not. There are two orders of nachos and a pitcher of beer up for grabs here.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Import?”
“Domestic, but whatever. A win’s a win.”
“Orrr…I buy you nachos and a beer that is actually palatable and then we both win-win naked back at my house and skip the whole damn thing. What do you say?”
I patted his chest. “Nice try. But I have a good feeling about tonight. I’ve never won before. Aaron is terrible at trivia. Smart guy, but he’s about as speedy at picking answers as a ninety-year-old man with no hands.”
“What makes you think I’m any faster?”
Pressing up onto my toes, I nipped at his earlobe. “Those fingers gave me two orgasms the other night. You help me win this, I’ll let you try for three.”
I started to move away, but he caught the back of my head, holding me a breath away from his mouth. “You are an evil, brilliant woman. But as soon as this is over, you get a raincheck for your nachos and beer because I’m claiming number one on the way home.” He licked the tip of his finger before tracing it over my bottom lip.
My breath caught. Damn. Suddenly, I’d never wanted to play trivia less. But I’d committed, and honestly, getting off on Bowen’s fingers as he drove me home was a much better prize than nachos.
“Okay, then,” I whispered. “I guess I’ll…go get us signed up.”
He smirked as he let me go, but it morphed into a full-blown laugh as I reached into my shirt, pulled his handkerchief out, and dabbed it across my flushed face as I headed to the bar.
I’d been wrong. Bowen wasn’t good at trivia. The man was freaking incredible.
The bar issued everyone an electronic device and then questions appeared based on the designated category. Each question was multiple choice, A through F. Some had more than one answer and you had to pick all of them to be right. Others had no correct answer at all, so you had a button for that too. Points were assigned based on how quickly you submitted the correct answers, and I was not wrong about Bowen’s long, dexterous, and nimble fingers.
He dominated every history, sports, and math question to appear on the screens mounted around the bar. I pulled up the rear with pop culture, literature, and geography.
The only reason it wasn’t a complete blowout was the damn science category. We struggled through though and managed to have a ninety-nine-point lead over Team Beer Goggles by the end of the third round. The only problem was the final question was worth exactly one hundred points, and I didn’t need Bowen to do any accounting to know that if we got it wrong, we would end up in second place with nothing more than the order of cheese sticks as a consolation prize. I loved a good mozzarella stick as much as the next girl, but dammit, Team Sexy Professor was no loser.
After a few taunting glares at the Georgia Tech frat boys across the bar, Bowen and I huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, the rectangle touchscreen centered on the table between us and our eyes glued to the TV in the corner.
What 1989 film directed by Rob Reiner follows two fated lovers for over a decade as they attempt to settle the debate of whether men and women can ever truly be strictly platonic friends?
I hadn’t finished reading the question before I stabbed my finger down on the screen so fast I nearly elbowed Bowen off his stool.
I didn’t bother to look to make sure we’d gotten it right. I could have done a one-woman play reenacting that movie word for word if they’d asked for it.
“Yeah, buddy! Take that!” I shouted, launching myself into Bowen’s open arms.
Stools tipped. Drinks sloshed. He spun me in a circle, laughing, not a lick of good sportsmanship to be found in either of us. In fact, I think there were a few boos from the other teams, but whatever. I had just won nachos and orgasms. I was allowed to celebrate.
Out of breath but still laughing, Bowen and I sat down and waited for the waitress to bring our gift cards to claim the future spoils of our victory.
“Holy shit, Remi. That was amazing. You were an animal,” Bowen teased. “I barely saw Rob Reiner before you had already answered.”
“Damn right.” I brushed invisible lint off my shoulder. “Though I’m not sure I would have been that fast with any other film. I have a slight obsession with When Harry Met Sally. I’ve watched it no less than two hundred times.”
