When a big grin, the biggest grin he’s shown me yet, stretches across his face, I know I’ve messed up.
Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “Are you jealous?”
“No! I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?” I deny, but it comes out a little too quick, a little too insincere, even to my ears.
I glance at my bag on the bed, breaking eye-contact.
I’m not jealous at all, dammit. I just want to keep him away…
“That’s good,” he says, taking another step forward.
My attention immediately snaps back to him.
Eyes glittering with humor, he says slowly, “But, just in case you are… You should know I haven’t been to a strip club in months.”
It’s a trap, my brain screams at me. Another one of his sneaky traps.
I should just ignore what he said.
“Okay… whatever. That’s nice, I guess,” I shrug at him. “I don’t really care.”
Even though I’m dying to ask when the last time he went was.
“Oh? Don’t you? I thought you were worried about stripper cooties,” he snickers, his grin twisting into a smirk as he takes yet another step forward.
“I am,” I say, stiffening and narrowing my eyes at him. “Even if it’s been months, you’re probably still contaminated with them. So stay back.”
“But, baby,” he drawls out while continuing to advance on me, “I swear I haven’t been to a club since before Christmas. And that was just to kill those Santas…”
“What?” I blink at him.
“It’s a long story.” He winks. “But there’s no way I still have any stripper cooties.”
“You do,” I insist, refusing to back down on this even though it’s dumb as hell. I chose this hill to die on, so I have to stick with it. “That kind of thing never goes away. You’re forever tainted.”
I don’t know why he’s coming at me, but I know nothing good will come from it. Not when he’s got that look in his eyes. That look that says he wants to rip all my clothes off and eat me alive.
I’m so weak, so damn weak when it comes to him, if he does get his hands on me, I just might let him do it. And that would be a total disaster. If I get pregnant… fuck, I can’t even contemplate it.
“If that’s the case…” James gives a long, drawn out sigh before his eyes flash and that wicked grin reappears. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Knowing that clothing won’t be enough to keep him at bay, I reach into the bag without taking my eyes off him and grab the first hard thing my hand falls on.
Whipping my hand out of the bag, I thrust out what I’m holding in front of me. “No. Stay back or I’ll…”
I glance down at my hand and have to swallow back a groan.
“Hairspray me to death?” James laughs then he suddenly lunges for me.
“Yes!” I shriek as I jump back, just out of his reach.
Eyes tracking me as I dance from side to side to avoid him, he says, “I’ll take my chances.”
“Dammit, James. I’m serious! Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!” I shriek and quickly try to tear the cap off the hairspray.
Let’s see him laugh and be happy when I spray him in the fucking eyes.
Taking advantage of my distraction, he pounces on me just as I manage to pop the cap off the bottle of hairspray.
“Unhand me, you nasty, contaminated, cretin!” I demand as he grabs me by the hips and spins me around like I weigh absolutely nothing.
Pressing my finger down hard on the little nozzle, I let loose a thick stream of hair spray that completely misses his face as he tackles me down to the bed.
“Now that’s not very nice,” he growls playfully, his eyes still laughing at me as he knocks the hair spray out of my hand with a swipe of his forearm.
“It’s the truth! You are a cretin! A total cretin!” I declare and try to shove him off me.
Using his weight to push me back down, he chuckles. “That’s not what I meant.”
He tries to grab up my hands, but I slap at him, fighting him off.
“I meant,” he continues to chuckle, “you shouldn’t needlessly create holes in the ozone layer. We need to protect the environment for our future children.”
I let out a loud groan in frustration and he manages to capture my left wrist. “I’m not making any babies with you. You’re a cretin with stripper cooties.”
He pins the hand he captured to the bed.
“Yup.” His chuckles soften into snickers. “I’m a cretin with stripper cooties. Stripper cooties that are getting all over you…”
I suck in a breath then expel it in a deep, raspy sound that’s almost demonic. “You!”
I try to buck him off with every bit of strength I have and shove at his chest with my hand that’s still free.
But it’s all futile.
He’s too damn strong.
Dammit.
Still snickering at my attempts to fight him off, James grabs the hand on his chest and promptly pins it to the bed.
No matter how hard I buck, twist, or try to push him off, he easily keeps me pinned.
The only thing my struggle seems to accomplish is amusing him.
“Let me up!” I cry and strain up against his hold before I collapse against the bed and pout at him.
James shakes his head, some of his dark hair falling into his face and swaying in front of his eyes. “Not until I’m done getting my cretin stripper cooties all over you.”
Then he begins to do precisely that. Leaning down, he presses his chest against my chest and begins to rub it from side to side.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe you! You’re ridiculous!” I squeal and toss my head back and forth.
Straining again against his strength.
“I guess that’s better than being a cretin,” he laughs and begins to drag his chest down my body.
“Oh, you’re still a cretin! You’re a ridiculous cretin,” I declare.
Pausing at my stomach, he asks, “With stripper cooties, right?”
Then he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at me.
And I don’t know if it’s because the third time is the charm…
Or if it’s simply the silliness of the entire situation finally hitting me, but I feel laughter bubbling inside me.
Doing my best to keep a smile from cracking across my lips, I narrow my eyes at him and say, “Yes.”
He drawls out, “Well, if that’s the case…”
Using his nose, he nudges up my shirt and begins to rub his face against my belly.
I immediately jerk and try to twist out of his grip, the sensation slightly ticklish. “Oh my god, stop! Don’t do that!”
“Oh… is someone ticklish?” James chuckles against my stomach.
His breath alone nearly setting me off.
“Yes!” I gasp, still trying my best not to smile or laugh.
“Then I guess someone shouldn’t be calling people cretins with stripper cooties.”
Releasing his grip on my hands, his fingers immediately find my most ticklish spot—my armpits.
Squealing as they work against me, I try to slap him off. When that doesn’t work, I try to pull my arms down and roll to the side.