Chapter Eighty-two

"Spread me out?" I asked, but he did not answer.

He pushed all the books on the table away, scattering books everywhere, then hosted me up.

"Reagan, I do not think this is a good idea," I said, but he did not drop me on my feet, or at least did not hear me; instead, he dropped me on the table, then gave me one of his smoldering looks that always made my pants wet. I gave him mine back.

"What?" I whispered.

He chuckled, then started to unbutton his shirt. "Take off your clothes; anything on your body, when I am done taking off mine, will be reduced to rags." He said he was still not raising his head.

I scoffed, "Hey, if you want me to take my clothes off, ask nicely, Mr. Maynard."

He smiled, still not raising his head, and focused on unbuttoning his pants, as he had already taken his shirt off and tossed it to the ground. I decided to distract him and run. I wanted to tease him and make him understand that he could not always get me where he wanted.

I slid it off the table. "Who says I