Page 74 of Playing for Keeps

I let out a shaky laugh, still floating. “Worth it.”

We stayed tangled together, my body totally spent, my heart trying to remember how to slow down. Max shifted just enough so he wasn’t crushing me, but he kept his arm tight around my waist.

“Still breathing?” he murmured against my temple, his voice all low and scratchy.

“Barely,” I whispered, tracing lazy circles on his arm. “You’ve basically turned me into a puddle.”

He let out this dry, satisfied laugh that rumbled through his chest. “Good. Seems only fair.”

I nudged him with my knee, and he gave my waist a squeeze in return.

“Also, you’re never allowed to do that thing with your tongue again unless you’re prepared to deal with the consequences.”

I shot him a look. “Consequences?”

He kissed me again, slower this time, grinning against my lips. “Yeah. Me completely losing my shit.”

That heat flared up in me again, but it wasn’t sharp anymore – just warm, steady. I reached up and cupped his cheek, his stubble rough under my palm.

“You good?” he asked, voice softer now.

“More than good,” I said, brushing my thumb over his skin.

“You?”

He nodded, still a little out of breath. “Happy. Totally destroyed. Maybe dying. But happy.”

I laughed, soft and tired. “Are you staying?”

He grinned. “Baby, you couldn’t get rid of me, even if you tried.”

There was something in the way he said it – more serious than he probably meant. Surprisingly, it didn’t make me nervous. It made everything feel a little more solid.

35

MAX

The bar wasn’t too busy tonight, which was exactly how I liked it. Just the low lights, the steady hum of voices and the familiar smell of beer and nachos. Easy. Comfortable.

I leaned against the bar with Seth and Lewis on either side of me, Will was halfway through a story about practice, talking fast and grinning the whole time. Emma and Simon had gone to the dance floor at the far end. She had asked me to come and join her, and even though I wanted to spend all my time with her, no one at that bar needed to see that. But watching her was the next best thing.

From where I was standing, I caught flashes of her on the dance floor. She was wearing a red top, had her hair down, and a big smile that lit up the dark. Simon moved well, smoothly and with confidence, but that didn’t matter. She was the one I watched. The one I couldn’t look away from.

“Finn,” Lewis nudged me with his elbow and pointed his chin at the bar. “Incoming.”

I didn’t have to look to know what he meant. Bridget.

With her heels clicking and her blonde hair perfectly in place, she had the same look on her face that I’d seen a hundred times before: like I was a prize she had already half-won. My jaw clenched.

“Finn,” she said cheerfully, sliding into the space next to me as if she owned it. Her perfume hit me before her shoulder did, sharp and sweet. “It’s been a while.”

“Bridget.” I nodded, trying to be polite. I kept my hands around my beer glass, with my knuckles tight.

“You always look so serious.” She laughed. “Relax. I’m not here to make you squirm.”

“Good to know.”

She studied me, and then her smile softened in a way I didn’t expect. “Listen,” she said, quieter now. “That night at Will’s? With Emma? I got the message. You’re crazy about her.”