I slide my palm from the screen and push the phone to him. The message means everything to me, but I’m sure it will be nothing to him.

“Who are the Benson twins?” He reads the message again. It says he can be your Benson twins.

“It’s a long story.” I sip at my wine until the glass is nearly dry.

Not seeing the waitress, Hugh excuses himself and goes to the bar to get us another drink.

He returns minutes later with beverage reinforcements. “We’ve got time. Tell me about these Benson boys. They are boys, right?”

I shrug. I’ve never known my sister to be interested in anything but cock. Then again, a recent “Cosmo” article said that most women are two strong drinks away from a bisexual experience. “I’ve never met them, but I guess the best way to describe them is a regret.”

“The ones who got away?”

I tilt my head back and forth. “Oh heck. We’ll never see each other again, and I did tell my sister I’d open up a little. Be more careless.” I draw in a long drink from my glass of white wine. “Won’t it be funny when she finds out I’m opening up about her.”

He takes a drink of beer and smiles like he’s enjoying the tingle and pop of the carbonation as it slides down his throat.

I look at my empty wine glass. Two drinks on an empty stomach is not the best decision, but there are worse things than being soused and stranded in the airport with a sexy man.

“Hold that thought.” He races to the bar to get us another drink.

“You’re going to get me drunk.” I dip my finger into the wine and swirl it around the rim until the glass hums.

“I’m tying to get you to catch up with me.” He holds up his beer. “Here’s to being careless.” We tap glasses and he pins me with a questioning look. “The Benson twins?”

I lean against the table and my breasts flop onto the top like I’ve served them up for his pleasure. His eyes are fixated on the colorful band like it’s the wrapping to a delicious treat. Feeling giddy and not quite like my shy, reserved self, I grab my breasts and jiggle them. “These girls are not the Benson twins.”

“Two bad, I would have loved to meet them.”

I take another gulp for fortification. I’m totally out of my element here, but I’m having too much fun to turn back. So… back on the table I lean. Hugh leans to within inches of me like we’re going to share top-secret information.

“I’m a bit reserved, and my sister says that I need to let loose more.”

He sits back and takes me in. “That’s not the outfit of a reserved woman. It says, I am woman, hear me roar.”

“I knew it. I told my sister when she did my makeover that I was a mouse pretending to be a lion.”

He leans in closer and brushes his lips against mine. “I think you’re more lion than you want to believe.”

I lick his touch off my lips and take several deep breaths. Heat from that quick touch moves like a wildfire down to my core, and I find myself clenching my thighs trying to hold on to that fleeting feeling of desire.

“We’re not talking about me. We were talking about the Benson twins.”

He looks longingly down at my breasts, and a surge of burning hot desire courses through me again.

“Tell me about the twins.”

His tongue rings his lips, and I lean closer as if drawn to them by some magical force called wine and poor judgment. But Lisa’s words continue to repeat in my head. Step out of your comfort zone. Try something new. Be carefree and a little careless. Maybe for just a day I could be the lion instead of the mouse.

I push my lips to his and say, “Her biggest regret is that she never slept with the twins.”

His eyes open wide. “Together?”

I nod. “So she says.”

Our lips brush back and forth against each others. Not really a kiss but something teasing and tantalizing. It's like a bite of cake that makes you want to devour the whole thing in one sitting.

His words are a whisper against my lips. “And the lesson you’re supposed to take away from her regrets?” He nips at my lips and I moan.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s live in the moment. Maybe it’s don’t be so cautious. Maybe it’s as simple as every girl should know what an orgasm feels like before she’s twenty five.”

I consumed too much wine to feel embarrassed, even though I know I should be, but Hugh doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable with our frank talk. I'm not sure if it's him or the alcohol, but I'm not ashamed. Maybe it's as simple as dressing differently that gives me the permission to act different.

“How old are you, Katy?” He threads his fingers through my hair and pulls me to him. His cologne washes over me. Sandalwood and sex with a hint of citrus. His lips crush into mine and his tongue is like a hot iron pressing my inhibitions away with each soft stroke. I'm lost in the kiss and completely bereft when he pulls away. “How old, Katy?”

I run my tongue over my kiss-swollen lips. “Twenty-four.”

“Do you feel this attraction between us?” He points back and forth.

I nod. “It’s intense.” I feel something all right. I am a moth trapped outside the window and he is the light.

“So you want to live in this moment?" He strokes my lip with the pad of his thumb. "Do you want to explore this attraction?”

I lean in wanting his lips against mine again.

“You want to know what that orgasm feels like?”

My whole body vibrates. Too much wine? The man? The moment? I don’t care what it is, all I know is that it’s time. I have this moment. I don’t want missing this experience with Hugh to be my big regret.

I look around the restaurant where people are packed against each other like fish in a can. “You want to give me an orgasm here in the restaurant?” Heat races down my spine to dampen my panties.

“I’d love to do that, but I actually have to get to Denver tomorrow. It would be hard to explain to my boss why I need to be bailed out of jail for indecent exposure.”

“Where do you have in mind?” He nips at my lower lip and trails a finger down my arm. The motion stops at my elbow, but the sensation travels down to my core and causes a deep seated ache between my legs. I want to be bold, but I don’t want my first orgasm to happen in a booth at a restaurant or inside the stall of a public bathroom.

“I’ve got a room,” he says. He pulls out his wallet and fishes between foreign bills to grab several twenties. He tosses them to the table and rises from his chair. “What do you say, shall we get reckless?”

Could I? I take another look at him. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tall and sexy with an accent that turns my insides to goo. How can I not want this? I glance at my sister’s last message. He could be your Benson twins.

I toss back the remainder of my wine and let out a roar like the lion I want to be. “I’m all in. Let’s get reckless.”