Page 74 of The Boyfriend Goal

But I’m not on his side. I’m already on the other side of this battle. “Or a good idea,” I offer in a flirty whisper.

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters as he unties my apron, as the song slows to a moodier beat, as if in tandem with us.

I slide a palm up his chest. “Don’t stop.”

“Tell me no.” It’s almost a plea.

I shake my head, smiling, inviting. “I’m saying yes.”

With a sigh of acceptance, he reaches behind me for the lipstick. Lifts the tube and says, “Then maybe we can just bend the rules.”

24

A LITTLE LIPSTICK, PLEASE

Wesley

This is playing with fire on so many levels. Sure, she’s my teammate’s sister, but more importantly? In a few short weeks, she’s become my friend. A good one, at that. Most of all, she’s my goddamn roommate.

Giving in to this lust is such a risk. It’s a massive complication. We’ll be sharing this kitchen, this living room, this home through the end of the year. Every second I see her in my house could be uncomfortable.

And yet, I don’t stop.

I go.

I gather up the hem of her peach sundress in one hand, my other hand holding the lipstick tube. “This gives me an idea,” I muse as I push up the fabric, revealing more of her lovely thighs.

“A very bad one?” she asks, turning my words right back on me.

I lean in closer. “A very good one.”

Her bright blue eyes flash with excitement. With filthy hope. “Well, don’t leave a girl hanging.”

That’s my Josie—full of sass and fire. My bold, funny, daring one-night stand. The woman I couldn’t get enough of. The woman I was desperate to see again.

Right now, I try to think of her that way rather than as the woman who’s inextricably wrapped up in my life.

Letting go of the cotton material, I sweep a hand behind her, pushing ingredients, the cutting board, and the bowls, farther away on the counter, making room. Then, I return to her, sliding my palm down her bare thigh, savoring the way she trembles as I touch her. When I reach her ankle, my gaze shifts to her toes. She fixed the aqua polish on the little pinky, and this detail makes my heart squeeze. It’s so very Josie.

In fact, it’s so very her, I’d better not think too hard on it or it’ll do dangerous things to my heart. Instead, I hike up her foot, setting the arch of it on the edge of the counter so her legs widen.

A sharp breath crosses her lips. I groan. Those lips. Dear god, those pretty pink lips. I ache to kiss her—with a sharp pang that’s so insistent, it’s borderline impossible to deny.

But if I kiss her again, I’ll get lost in her. It’s best to play. Have fun. Bend the rules. Not break them. That’s my plan—and it’s a plan that I’ve been formulating ever since I set eyes on that rose-gold lipstick tube.

I travel my hand back up her leg, goose bumps rising on her soft skin as I coast my palm over her. When I skim that hand along her thigh, she shudders, arching her back, lifting up her tits.

My mind goes hazy. My skin burns hot. Her reactions thrill me to the marrow. I’m so tempted to kiss her. But I focus on my impromptu plan. I push up the skirt to her waist, revealing her panties. They’re white cotton with pink polka dots, and—“You’re soaked, baby.”

She meets my eyes with a naughty smile of her own. “News flash: you kind of turn me on.”

I smile, feeling ten feet tall. “Kind of?”

She purses her lips then shudders out a breath. “Find out if it’s more than kind of.”

With a smirk, I waggle the lipstick tube, then lower it between her thighs.

Her eyes widen to moons. “Are you…?”

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