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Ha, two can play your little game.
The second his hand flattens, I smash my legs together.
Being males, Patrick and Vedant take Damon’s smirk as one of confidence and not the devilry I know it to be.
Now that I’ve clamped the man’s hand between ol’ thunder and lightning, he has the nerve to flick his middle finger up the seam of my lady bits.
Stars collide behind my eyes. I’ve never wanted to beg so much in my life.
My hold loosens enough for a second finger to find my clit. Outside my thin panties, he gives the bud several torturous strokes before retreating altogether.
I reach for my water with a shaking hand and take a drink, not appreciating that victorious grin a single bit.
“I’m impressed, Damon,” Patrick says, pushing his plate away. “If the app creator himself is lucky enough to snag a beautiful young woman like Kate, I’d say there’s at least half a decent chance for any other male out there.”
He chuckles as though he’s just told the funniest joke.
“I think I’m the lucky one,” I pile on, smiling so hard through the agony between my legs that my cheeks hurt.
Shaylea’s narrowed gaze flits between the two of us like a cat watching its prey. “Damon certainly is a catch.”
It takes more effort than I care to admit not to snap my teeth like an overprotective dog.
Instead, I lean an elbow on Damon’s shoulder and scrunch up my nose. “I’ll admit, I almost said no after finding out he was a Dodgers fan.”
“Such a shame you’re a die hard for the Braves.” Damon’s hazel eyes greedily snag on my lips. “Seems we’re destined to be enemies.”
He ignores their laughter.
This isn’t real,I remind myself as we stare at each other.We’re faking it.
But every heat-induced minute that passes makes me question that claim.
“I’m dying to know what made you change your mind,” Patrick says with a playful smile on his thin lips.
I’m old hat at these games. Nancy made me an expert at reading men like him.
Ascertain their desires and flirt with that line until I acquire what I’ve set my sights on.
At the thought of Damon’s teasing hand, I say the first thing that pops into my mind. “I like a man with big hands.”
Mr. Vance slaps the table. “This one is trouble. I can already tell!”
I sneak a glance at Damon, now relaxed back in his chair, legs spread as he runs the very finger he just graced my center with across a generous smile.
“Kate,” Patrick says. “I hope we haven’t bored you with our conversation tonight.”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
Beyond the enormous room, past a semicircle of leather couches and beside a giant big-screen TV are two sets of shelves. Each one boasts trophies from what appear to be dressage competitions.
“Best in show? What an honor.”
His gaze follows mine. “Ah, yes. My daughter shows horses. She’s extremely dedicated to the sport. We actually have a small farm south of here in Augustine.”
Patrick’s wife chimes in for the first time, sobering enough to appear proud. “Best in show three years in a row.”
“That’s incredible. I’ve got a couple of those myself back home in Georgia,” I say. “He’s since passed, but Tux, my Arabian, was the best damn horse I’ll ever have.”
