Page 52 of Foolish Games

His gaze drops to mine. “Yeah, Princess?” he murmurs, tipping my chin up.

Our eyes lock, and I feel the pull of our connection, something undeniable, no matter how much of me knows that it’s a bad idea. This is an arrangement, nothing more. It’s not permanent or even real.

But part of me wants it to be, and if it can’t be, then I want to pretend. Just for tonight.

I slide my arms up around his neck, and his gaze drops to my mouth. Slowly, he leans down, his warm lips brushing mine in a feather-soft touch. My stomach drops, my heart flips, and my knees absolutely melt.

I gasp against his mouth, my arms tightening as I pull him closer, wanting so much more.

“Looks like we’re interrupting,” Billy calls cheerfully as voices bounce off the icy water. Lexi comes bounding by, and I bury my face in Sebastian’s chest, trying to get my head together. Damn, it was just a kiss, and barely even that, and my head is spinning like I just got off a merry-go-round. I grip onto his jacket as the others slip and run down the precarious path to the swimming hole, then rush to test the ice. Groans of disappointment that it’s not thick yet fill the clearing, and then shrieks and shouts as they pretend to push each other in.

“You alright?” Sebastian asks me, amusement in his voice.

No, I’m not alright. I officially have a crush on my fake boyfriend. This is so bad.

I’ve been fighting it since the first time he kissed me, at his locker, trying to deny it and hoping it’ll go away if I pretend I don’t feel it. But it’s not going anywhere. If anything, it just gets worse the more time we spend together.

“Yeah, fine,” I say, stepping back and pressing my cold fingers to my flushed cheeks. “Just waiting to see this superior partying style I’ve heard so much about.”

“You sure you’re ready for that?” he asks, adjusting himself in his jeans.

A little thrill goes through me. Did that barest hint of a kiss make him hard? Did it do the same thing to him that it’s done to me?

“As long as you don’t say the party’s in your pants.”

“Where else would it be?” he asks. “How do you expect me to show you the pleasures of my world when you won’t even step through the door?”

“The pleasures of your world?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

“This is all just foreplay, baby,” he says, grabbing two beers from the cooler. “The real party happens when we get naked.”

“Hm, I think I prefer curling up in front of the fire with a good book and a mug of tea. At least then I’d be warm.”

“Trust me, babe, I can do things to you that words on paper never could.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say, raising a brow.

“As much fun as it is to have my balls busted all night, I think it’s time to join them,” he says, nodding to the group at the water’s edge.

Before I can ask if I really offended him, he opens the two beers and hands me one, then heads for his friends. They’re all gathered at the edge of the partially frozen pond, having fun with the novelty of the ice. It’s not uncommon to have freezing temperatures, though it’s a little early in the year. But the consistently cold temperatures that would allow skating on the swimming hole only happen every few years.

Maddox and Theo are standing on the edge, cracking what’s built up so far. Billy and Tommy are horsing around, trying to shove each other through it and into the water. Tony lifts Lexi around the waist, shaking her over the thin ice while she screams curses at him.

His brothers must have gone to the party, as apparently we’re the only ones crazy enough to be at a swimming hole in twenty-degree weather.

“Let’s find some rocks to throw in,” Sebastian says, heading for the stretch of forest between this clearing and the one with the bonfire.

“We’re going in there?” I ask, pointing to the skeletal trees with trepidation. “At night? Without a flashlight?”

“It’s bright as day,” Sebastian points out, gesturing to the moon overhead. “Besides, it’s winter. No snakes this time of year.”

“I’m not really outdoorsy,” I admit.

“We’re just picking up rocks,” he says, holding out a couple. “You can stand there if you want, and I’ll load you up.”

I reluctantly fold my arms, letting him put dirty, frozen rocks on the sleeves of my new coat. After the dress incident, I know better than to protest his treatment of my designer wear, but I wince every time he stacks another baseball sized stone against the wool.

“You’re just a full-on redneck, aren’t you?” I ask after he emerges from a few trips into the woods and crouches to load up his arms with a pile he made on the ground.

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