An emotional friends-to-lovers romance full of risky secrets and late-night lessons in seduction is coming next week from Sarina Bowen, part of her True North series, and I have a sneak peek for you.
“Come home with you,” she repeats slowly. The air thickens between us. I swear her blue eyes darken as I watch.
“That’s right. It can just be for drinks and a snack. Or we can work on our other tutoring subject. But in my bed, this time. I like this idea a whole lot, but it’s still your choice. And—” I suddenly think of an innovation. “—since you prefer not to talk about certain subjects, you don’t have to. You can just give me a clue.”
“A clue?” she whispers so quietly that I almost can’t hear it.
“Yeah.” Because Chastity prefers actions to words. “You don’t have to ask for it. You don’t have to say a word. I’ll know you’re all in if you hand me your panties.”
“If I what?” she squeaks, her eyes blazing. We’re back in stare-down mode, and I love it.
“You heard me.” I run a finger down her cute little sloping nose. “If you want me to take you home and lift up that skirt, all you have to do is put the panties in my hand. Simplest thing ever.”
She blinks. “So now it’s your turn to throw down a challenge?”
“Apparently.” I give her a shrug, pretending to be casual even though all my blood has begun traveling south. We stare at each other for another long moment, and then I grin. “But don’t forget to do problem number thirty-two, first.”
She lets out a little squeak of irritation and then picks up her pencil.
I guess it’s really no surprise that problem thirty-two takes an excruciatingly long time. For both of us. She has to factor the equation three different times before she gets it right.
But eventually she solves the whole thing and throws down her pencil.
“Check your units,” I say mildly. Although my unit is as hard as a fence post right now.
She adds a dollar sign to the answer. Then she pushes back her chair, gets up, and leaves me sitting at the table.
The seconds drag by until Chastity returns a few minutes later, looking a little hesitant, her cheeks deeply flushed.
When I stand up to meet her, Chastity looks me right in the eye and then places a scrap of fabric in my hand.
“I just want you to know,” I say in a serious, quiet voice, “that I’ve never in my life prayed for underpants until just a moment ago.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” she whispers back. “Now put those away before someone sees.”