Page 56 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

“A bribe to convince you to practice with me.”

Vin circles the island to stand beside me. He’s close enough that his delicious, nutty scent sends my senses into a tailspin.

Of all the chores I do for the guys, cleaning up their rooms has been surprisingly fun. The smells linger with my memories of their natural scents and make me want to roll around on the floor like a catnip overdose.

Vin, though—he’s my favorite. It’s the perfect complement to his down-to-earth attitude.

His close proximity challenges my control.

Vin holds out a placating hand. My fingers fit easily into his, and he takes that as the approval it is. He jerks me close and rubs a circle on my low back with his thumb.

The overhead light illuminates his pleased expression as he turns us until we’re leaning diagonally against the countertop. The position gives me control. I have an opportunity to escape if I’m uncomfortable, but it only makes me want to touch him more.

Vin smiles that sly smile. I tuck the longer hair on the side behind his ear like that night at the bar.

Goose bumps erupt on my skin when he catches my hand, places a tentative kiss on my inner wrist, and then slings my arm over his shoulder.

“How’s this?” I ask.

This man, this inscrutable man who’s somehow both strong and gentle, peers down at me with a look of desire that will resonate long after he lets me go.

It’s only practice. A façade. Faux fervor.

Keep it in check, Izzy.

“You don’t need to bribe me to spend time with you,” he rumbles.

I have to clear my throat.

“It’s, ah, a peace offering. And a thank you. You could’ve canceled the pact and tossed me out on my ass. Instead, you’ve let me stay and are still scheming how to hit our end goal.”

His eyes tighten at that, but he quickly blanks his face.

“There’s a place for you here as long as you want one. Don’t worry about your designation.”

He says the words, but there’s an undercurrent to it. A tone that belies his meaning. There’s something else hanging in the statement, although I can’t tell what.

“Do you want help?” he asks.

“With?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “The cookies.”

“You want to bake cookies with me?”

“If you were my girl, we’d spend time together however you like.”

My brain stutters over that thought. It’s innocuous enough. He’s said aloud what we’re playing at.

Except, no one’s here to see him do it. It’s not merely getting comfortable around each other.

It has the feel of a promise and not a statement.

“Yeah, uh, that’d be fun.”

“Good. One thing though.”

He skims his fingers over my cheek to tuck my hair behind my ear. I smirk at the mirrored movement, and he grins in response.

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