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“Oh my God! I can’t believe you,” Sally cried, glaring at a grinning Sly, who looked like the cat who stole the cream…then lapped it up with his much too talented tongue.
“It isn’t my fault you assumed I couldn’t bowl. It’s not like I was born rich—I was a poor kid once, and the only thing we had to do in town besides stirring up trouble was 2 for 1 bowling nights at Pinned.”
Okay, so she had assumed that rich dudes didn’t bowl, but was it really that far-fetched to think he’d be more skilled at golf or polo than something as pedestrian as bowling?
You’re such a snob, her inner bitch huffed accusingly. Dammit!
Curling his fingers and brushing them against his chest in a show of playful arrogance, he grinned widely and winked. Sly remarked, “Every Tuesday and Friday nights, Ja—” He stopped mid-word as though the very sound he was trying to make got stuck in his throat.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting, both curious and strangely wary. What was he about to say that actually made him choke?
As she watched, he cleared his throat and gave her a smile she knew immediately was as forced. The lines creasing his brow and mouth weren’t laugh lines. They were a poor effort at holding back a grimace of pain. She knew that look; her mother had worn it for years before she died.
“My friend and his twin sister would meet up with me, and we’d play three or four games while counting coins to see if we had enough pocket change to buy a Coke to share.” His smile, once forced, grew tender, as though the memories were good but…sweetly painful.
You have no idea what that feels like. All of your childhood memories are bitter and agonizing. Nothing good can come from reminiscing.
“And you learned to bowl like a champ while hanging out and sharing mono with your friends.”
He snickered. “I have never in my life caught mono—and I’ll have you know we never shared straws. Three straws in one cup. That’s how we rolled.”
She snorted, loving that the uptight asshole from the house party had been replaced with the playful, sexy average guy…who still wore hundred-dollar jeans. No one was perfect.
Yeah, like you don’t buy jeans that cost more than you should spend on a single piece of clothing.Once in a while, yes, but she didn’t have a closet full of them like Sly probably did—and he, no doubt, bought them at full price instead of on the clearance rack at the second-hand store. Or his ex-wife, who had modeled for Gucci a few years back and probably took home all the Gucci goodies as a bonus.
“You could have at least told me you were good, then I could have had you on my team,” she whined, crossing her arms in a sarcastic huff. “It’s like your hands have some sort of mysterious sorcery that makes pins magically fall over.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a large hand. She tried not to notice how hard his bicep was as he flexed or how cut the muscles were as he moved and they twitched. Damn. The man was a god. Apparently, a bowling god. Ugh.
Sly smirked at her, his gaze heated—because, of course, he caught her drooling over him. “I’ll make it up to you later, baby. My magic hands are all yours. In your case, though, they make clothes come off.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed, her heart fluttering in her chest at his blatant and totally dangerous—yet humorous—come-ons. So this was what it felt like to date a man she was actually interested in.
Oh, you’re more than interested in Sly. You want to have his babies.
Jerking at her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that Sly’s smile fell.
“What?” he asked, concern softening his features. Closing the distance between them, Sly wrapped his arms around her and peered down at her. She stood there, stiffly, wondering where the hell that thought had come from. Have his babies? They’d only just started dating; babies were way far down the spectrum. They hadn’t even gone on a proper date yet!
“It’s nothing,” she replied, “just thinking about work stuff that I’ll have to deal with tomorrow.” She lied like a lying liar who lied. And she felt like shit about it; his sincere concern had warmed her until the icy blast of guilt frosted her veins.
His gaze glided over her face, taking in each of her features, searching. Finally, he offered, “We can get out of here.”
Great idea! We can jump him and hump him and get this aching in our pussy taken care of right!
Damn her libidinous hussy self!
“Sure,” she opened her mouth and said without consent from her brain. “I came with Anna, so you’ll need to give me a ride.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and stepped back, dropping his arms. She immediately felt the cold that rushed in when his heat was removed.
“Not a problem. I’ll let AJ and Blaze know we’re leaving,” he said, then hesitated, reaching out to rub a thumb over her cheek…then down over her bottom lip. She bit back a moan at his touch. “You realize this means I’m actually walking you to your door, probably seducing you to let me inside, and then fucking you into your mattress, right?”
Hot damn! She shivered, his words like a match to the gasoline-soaked dynamite in her belly.
“It means that I’ll allow you to walk me to my door, I might let you in for a drink, and then we might spend some time talking like two normal adults who’re dating.” There. Simple. Non-sexual. She could handle that, and he’d better agree, or she was taking an Uber, and he could kiss her large, brown ass.
He tilted his head, his gaze pinned to her lip where his thumb was still rubbing it. He looked hungry…and Lord, she wanted to be eaten—but she had to protect herself. If he was serious about getting to be in her life, he needed to realize that sex was only part of her.
