Page 1 of Catching Feeling

prologue

Reese

Then

Ithink I’m in love.

No, scratch that. I’m definitely in love with the girl in the middle of the dance floor wearing hot pink cowgirl boots, cutoff shorts, and a scowl.

Okay, fine. It’s not love, but it’s definitely lust, and when it comes to wanting Vivienne Brentwood, I’m a fucking goner.

I never stood a damn chance.

Those tiny cutoff shorts are molded to her ass, hugging the little dips right beneath her delectable cheeks, and I want to groan out loud in the middle of this honky-tonk bar with how badly I want to touch her. How badly I want to run my tongue along the creamy skin that peeks out the bottom.

Is it because the more I flirt, the more I try to charm her with my good looks, the more she dislikes me?

Absolutely.

I’m a bit of a masochist like that. The harder I try to catch her, the further she runs.

And there’s just something about a girl who pretends she wants nothing to do with you but secretly wants to bounce on your cock when no one’s around.

And trust me, this girl wants me just as bad as I want her.

She can spew all the venom she wants from those pouty pink lips, but I know the truth, even if she’s not ready to admit it to herself.

I’ve been watching her on the dance floor for the last fifteen minutes, and what little amount of restraint I had left has been dissolved by the five tequila shots I downed earlier.

Viv drops her head back and laughs, swaying her hips to the music, her hands lifted above her head, completely oblivious that every red-blooded guy in this building is watching her the same way that I am.

When the white tank top she’s wearing rides up an inch, exposing a sliver of pale skin, I’m fucking done watching.

I bring the shot to my lips and toss it back, downing it in a single gulp before slamming it onto the table and making my way across the bar toward her.

The dance floor is crowded with people, but the moment I step onto it, her eyes find mine. Even in the dim, shitty light of the bar, I see the defiance flash in her gaze.

Always a fucking challenge, except tonight, the win will be mine. I’m not leaving here without touching her. We’ve been dancing around it all night. For weeks, really.

Reaching up, I turn my hat backward as I make my way toward her, never taking my eyes off her.

I can’t.

Even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. I’m in a trance, watching her hips sway to the music. She pulls her plump lip between her teeth and runs her hands down her hips.

Almost like she’s dancing for me.

When I finally get to her, I reach out, sliding my hands along her waist until my fingers dip into the loops of her cutoffs to pull her toward me. Her soft body collides with mine, and her hands fist into the front of my shirt.

“Um… have you lost your mind?” she says, feigning surprise, but doesn’t pull away, and that surprises me.

I shrug. “Probably. Don’t really give a fuck.”

I watch her throat bob as she swallows, and her eyes darken as I move us to the music, pressing us tighter together with my hands resting right above the swell of her ass, testing waters we’ve never been in.

She doesn’t respond, simply stares up at me with those wide blue eyes that I feel like I could drown in.

Leaning down, I dip my head to her ear, whispering, “How about for one night, we pretend you don’t hate me, Viv?”

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