Page 92 of Rinkmates

A surprised laugh bubbles up in my throat, a blush heating my cheeks. I can picture the look on Riley’s face, the heat in his eyes as he stares down at the photo. My thumbs hover over the screen, my heart racing as I try to decide how to respond. This is dangerous territory. And I’m still mad at him.

Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?I hit Send before I can lose my nerve.

Puckster: Why are you wearing such nice lingerie anyway?

Okay, he thinks it’s nice. Imma wear it.

Liora: For the party.

Puckster: You still want to go?

Liora: Sure. I promised to meet Derek.

It takes several minutes and blinking dots until he finally answers.

Puckster: No.

Liora: What no?

I feign ignorance, still grinning like an idiot.

Puckster: Sorry, but there’s no chance anyone is seeing you in that tonight.

Liora: Don’t be so sure of it. I’m out for blood.

Puckster: I’m your fake boyfriend and we have rules. We stick to the rules.

Liora: Bossy. Meet you in five.

I dress to kill: knee-high boots, a black miniskirt, and a white blouse that shows off my cleavage.

I’m not exactly proud of it, but when I stomped back home, I couldn’t resist stopping at a tiny dress shop after catching a glimpse of it in the window. I haven’t bought much for myself over the years, but I just had to have this outfit.

My hair falls sleek over my shoulders as I head out. But when I see him, the joke is on me because he looks so hot that I have to swallow—hard. The way I want this man. It’s not healthy anymore.

He leans against the wall in black jeans and a fitted black shirt, showing off all his muscles as he adjusts his watch. Shit. Black suits him so well.

There’s a cocky smirk on his lips, so I brace myself.

“I texted Derek,” he says as I approach.

“Oh?” I reply, striding to the door and making sure I swing my hips more than enough. And I’m pleased with the way he looks at me. Like he wants to devour me.

“He never said he’d meet you there.”

“Oh, about that.” I grin, swaying toward the elevator. “I just wanted to see how you’d react. Also, I still hate you, so don’t think your good looks will charm me—it’s not working.”

He winks. “It is.”

“In your dreams.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Well, you are in them.”

“Careful, you’re sounding like you care,” I retort, giving him a once-over. Why does he smell so good? This isn’t fair. I planned on giving him the cold shoulder, but all I want to do is take that stupid hair and pull him in and kiss him. “But I have to give it to you, you clean up nice. Almost like you’re trying to impress someone.”

He presses the elevator button. “You know, for someone who hates me, you’re awfully invested in my wardrobe.”

“Just making sure you don’t embarrass me. Let’s go, pretty boy.”

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