have someone run--” I broke off and felt my face heat. “Oh.”
Chapter Nine
Trey leaned close, his big body blocking out some of the sunlight. “What?”
I frowned and looked around at the families strolling nearby There were little kids with balloons, for heaven’s sake. “Um. These are kind of adult questions. I’ll ask you later.”
Trey hopped down, his tennis shoes sinking into the grass. “Ferris Wheel.”
He would know how to find a private spot in a public space. I took his hand and let him pull me from the bench. “That’ll work.”
I dumped our empty plate in the nearest trash bin on the way to the Ferris Wheel.
After a short line, it was our turn. I hooked my purse strap across my chest and slid onto the padded seat. The car rocked a little when Trey got in beside me. Pop tunes poured from the speakers, drowning out the cart’s creaking.
After removing the questionnaire and a pen from my bag, I braced my feet on the metal floor and flattened the paper against my knee. The Carnie latched the bar, and the cart lifted a few feet into the air, safe and secure. Creak.
I read, “Would you rather have someone run their fingertips or fingernails over your wrist?”
Trey’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know. Show me.” He flipped his hand over, palm up with the back of his hand against the black foam bar.
I swallowed and ran my fingertips over the blue veins on his wrist. His fingers twitched. I looked into his eyes when I lightly scraped my nails over the same spot. His fingers flexed and touched the back of my hand. His eyes widened and dilated. His dark green gaze dropped to my mouth.
I took my hand away. “Which one?”
“Yes,” he said. ”Both.”
I scribbled the answer.
The cart jolted upwards another two feet and paused. He said, “What about you?”
“Huh?”
“What did you answer?”
I shrugged. “I’ll do mine later.”
Trey flipped my hand over against the bar. He held it down with his right hand, and with his left rubbed calloused fingers down my palm and across the inside of my wrist. I felt the sensation from my fingertips to my elbow and reflexively tried to jerk my hand away. Trey tightened his grip, and ran his fingernails lightly over the same spot.
A shiver went through my whole body.
“I wonder if the order matters?” He ran his fingertips over my skin next. The tingles were amazing.
I shivered and yanked free. Staring hard at the questionnaire, I drew a column down the page and wrote my answer: Both.
Lights came on around the fair, refusing to let the day end as red, gold, and pink streaked through the sky with the sunset. The evening breeze pushed the cart and shifted Trey’s brown hair across his forehead, hiding his injury. He slid an arm over my shoulders. “What’s the next one?”
“Um. Favorite color?”
“Blue.” He sounded disappointed.
I wrote down blue , and in my column purple . “Number three, would you rather…” I stiffened as I read the first part of the question. “Um, do you want to write in your answers?” I offered Trey the pen and paper.
He shook his head and didn’t lift his hands. “Read it to me.”
I hesitated and glanced down again. “Would you rather have someone rub their hand on your leg or your waist?”
He blinked, and his palm moved across my thigh.
My eyes widened. “Uh, okay.”
Trey slid his hand to my waist and rubbed through my shirt.
My eyelids lowered. That one . He placed my hand around his waist. I clutched at the back of his shirt, and slipped my hand underneath the hem. The car stilled at the top of the Ferris wheel. Trey cupped my face in both of his large palms and kissed me.
He tasted like evening and powdered sugar. I scooted nearer to him, and he pulled my knees over his lap. I rubbed against the familiar warm skin of his back and tried to shift closer. Trey placed his hands on my hips to help. The restraining bar pressed into my leg. I tore my lips free.
Chapter Nine
Trey leaned close, his big body blocking out some of the sunlight. “What?”
I frowned and looked around at the families strolling nearby There were little kids with balloons, for heaven’s sake. “Um. These are kind of adult questions. I’ll ask you later.”
Trey hopped down, his tennis shoes sinking into the grass. “Ferris Wheel.”
He would know how to find a private spot in a public space. I took his hand and let him pull me from the bench. “That’ll work.”
I dumped our empty plate in the nearest trash bin on the way to the Ferris Wheel.
After a short line, it was our turn. I hooked my purse strap across my chest and slid onto the padded seat. The car rocked a little when Trey got in beside me. Pop tunes poured from the speakers, drowning out the cart’s creaking.
After removing the questionnaire and a pen from my bag, I braced my feet on the metal floor and flattened the paper against my knee. The Carnie latched the bar, and the cart lifted a few feet into the air, safe and secure. Creak.
I read, “Would you rather have someone run their fingertips or fingernails over your wrist?”
Trey’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know. Show me.” He flipped his hand over, palm up with the back of his hand against the black foam bar.
I swallowed and ran my fingertips over the blue veins on his wrist. His fingers twitched. I looked into his eyes when I lightly scraped my nails over the same spot. His fingers flexed and touched the back of my hand. His eyes widened and dilated. His dark green gaze dropped to my mouth.
I took my hand away. “Which one?”
“Yes,” he said. ”Both.”
I scribbled the answer.
The cart jolted upwards another two feet and paused. He said, “What about you?”
“Huh?”
“What did you answer?”
I shrugged. “I’ll do mine later.”
Trey flipped my hand over against the bar. He held it down with his right hand, and with his left rubbed calloused fingers down my palm and across the inside of my wrist. I felt the sensation from my fingertips to my elbow and reflexively tried to jerk my hand away. Trey tightened his grip, and ran his fingernails lightly over the same spot.
A shiver went through my whole body.
“I wonder if the order matters?” He ran his fingertips over my skin next. The tingles were amazing.
I shivered and yanked free. Staring hard at the questionnaire, I drew a column down the page and wrote my answer: Both.
Lights came on around the fair, refusing to let the day end as red, gold, and pink streaked through the sky with the sunset. The evening breeze pushed the cart and shifted Trey’s brown hair across his forehead, hiding his injury. He slid an arm over my shoulders. “What’s the next one?”
“Um. Favorite color?”
“Blue.” He sounded disappointed.
I wrote down blue , and in my column purple . “Number three, would you rather…” I stiffened as I read the first part of the question. “Um, do you want to write in your answers?” I offered Trey the pen and paper.
He shook his head and didn’t lift his hands. “Read it to me.”
I hesitated and glanced down again. “Would you rather have someone rub their hand on your leg or your waist?”
He blinked, and his palm moved across my thigh.
My eyes widened. “Uh, okay.”
Trey slid his hand to my waist and rubbed through my shirt.
My eyelids lowered. That one . He placed my hand around his waist. I clutched at the back of his shirt, and slipped my hand underneath the hem. The car stilled at the top of the Ferris wheel. Trey cupped my face in both of his large palms and kissed me.
He tasted like evening and powdered sugar. I scooted nearer to him, and he pulled my knees over his lap. I rubbed against the familiar warm skin of his back and tried to shift closer. Trey placed his hands on my hips to help. The restraining bar pressed into my leg. I tore my lips free.
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