“I love your hair.”
I love you.
“What do you want to watch on TV?” I ask instead.
“I don’t give a fuck about the TV.”
“Well, you turned it on,” I reply with a frown, and he clicks it off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’d just rather look at you than watch TV.”
“Are you going to stare at me in a creepy way?” His lips twitch, and then tip up in the corner in that way they do when he finds me particularly cute.
“If you think lust is creepy, then yes.”
I laugh out loud, unable to stop the snort that comes along with it. “No, there’s a difference between creepy and lustful.”
“Okay then, just lustful.”
I rest my hands over my belly and the tiny baby sleeping there. I need to tell him. Now is the perfect time. We’re alone, and we’re comfortable.
But instead, I close my eyes and enjoy the way his fingers feel in my hair. No one in my life has ever touched me the way Rhys does.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly.
“I was just thinking that no one’s ever touched me the way you do.”
His hand pauses for a moment, and then resumes. “I should hope not.”
“Does it bother you that I don’t have a lot of experience with men?”
Why did I just ask him that?
“Why would it bother me?”
“I mean, I’m twenty-seven. Shouldn’t I have had more partners?”
“I don’t think so. It’s been a lot of fun to show you new things. To watch you experience new feelings. It’s been a privilege, Gabby.”
I nod, but don’t open my eyes.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” I ask suddenly.
“Sixteen,” he replies immediately. I open my eyes to find him looking down at me with a grin. “No need to lie about that. Or anything else, for that matter.”
Direct hit.
“I was nineteen,” I reply. “And I got pregnant at the same time.”
“That’s crazy,” he replies.
“How many partners have you had?” Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Gabrielle!
“My fair share.” He narrows his eyes on me. “You’re acting very strangely tonight.”
“I’m just getting to know you better.”
“Okay.” He tosses his head back and forth. “I guess there have probably been about a dozen women.”
A dozen.
“I guess that’s not bad for a professional athlete. I mean, what’s the average? Fifty?”
“I have no idea,” he replies with a laugh. “Probably more than a dozen, yes.”
“So you’re not a man-whore.”
“No.”
“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
“Wow, your brain is on fire tonight.” His fingers drift down my cheek to my neck. “Cherry Garcia.”
“Favorite sexual position?”
“Any position that includes you in it,” he replies immediately.
“Good answer.” I grin up at him, and try to think of more questions. “What’s your shoe size?”
“Sixteen.”
“Holy shit! That’s a big foot.”
“I have to special order shoes.”
“Do you like to read?”
“I’m a Clive Cussler fan,” he replies and shakes his head. “I think we’re playing twenty questions.”
“I think it’s fun.”
“When is it my turn?”
“Go ahead.” I shift my hips so I’m lying on one side, but I’m still looking up into his handsome face. “Ask away.”
Just don’t ask me if I’m pregnant.
“Are you comfortable?”
“That’s an easy one. Yes.”
He chuckles. “What’s your favorite flower?”
“Magnolias.”
I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his fingers in my hair.
“What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Hmm, that’s a hard one. I guess it’s a tie between Mama’s pecan pie and key lime pie.”
“Favorite alcoholic drink?”
“Margaritas.”
“Are you getting sleepy?”
I grin as he brushes a fingertip down the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”
“Do you want to go to bed?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Tell me about the best concert you ever saw.”
“That’s an easy one too. I saw Nash a few years ago, and those guys put on one hell of a show. Also, Leo Nash is my boyfriend.”
“I think he got married.”
“Yes, we’re fighting because he got married without asking me if it was okay, but he’s hopelessly in love with me. I’m pretty sure that the whole time he was singing at the concert, he was singing just for me.”
“I’m sure he was. What’s the appeal of Leo Nash?”
“Have you seen him?” I open my eyes and lift my head, looking at Rhys like he’s grown a new nose.
“Of course.”
“Well, there’s the tattoo thing, and the playing guitar thing, and the man can sing like crazy.”
“Declan can sing like crazy.”
“Declan is my brother,” I remind him. “Declan will never be sexually attractive to me.”
“Point taken.”
“Speaking of celebrity crushes, who’s yours?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”