Page 10 of The Score

I frown at him. “Why is your arm around me?”

His expression is all innocence. “This is how I watch movies.”

“Really? So you put your arm around Garrett when you watch movies with him?”

“Absolutely. And if he’s nice to me, sometimes I slide my hand down his pants.” Dean’s other hand skims down to the waistband of my leggings. “Be nice to me, and I promise I’ll be even nicer in return.”

“Ha. Not happening.” I shove his hand away, but not before a spark of heat ignites between my legs. His bare chest is glorious, and it’s taunting me, begging my fingers to stroke all those roped muscles. And he smells really good. Like the ocean. No, like coconut. I’m feeling way too loopy to pinpoint the scent, but not loopy enough that I don’t register how my pussy is still tingling like crazy.

Oh, for crying out loud. My sex life must have really gone to the shitter if I’m getting all tingly in the presence of Dean Di Laurentis.

“What else do we have to do?” he counters.

I point to the TV. “Watch a movie.”

“I’d rather be watching you.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You know, when you’re shouting my name while I make you come.”

This time there aren’t any tingles. Just a lot of laughter that pours out of my mouth in uncontrollable waves.

“Jesus. You’re really bad for a man’s ego.” He looks insulted.

I suck in a gulp of air between giggles. Yep,I’m high and relaxed and in possession of no filters whatsoever, which means I can make fun of Dean all I want and blame the weed later. “I’m sorry, but you’re too fucking much sometimes.” I can’t stop laughing. “Do girls really fall for these lines?”

He makes an unflattering noise under his breath. “Put on the damn movie already.”

“Gladly.” I click the remote and shift all the way to the other side of the couch, leaving three feet of distance between us.

To Dean’s credit, he doesn’t say a word for nearly thirty minutes. His gaze stays focused on the screen, but from the corner of my eye, I don’t miss all the fidgeting he’s doing. Tapping his long fingers on his thighs. Raking a hand through his hair. Heaving a sigh as we watch the main character prepare an omelet in real time.

When she sits at the counter and starts eating the omelet—inreal time—Dean erupts like a dormant volcano.

“This movie blows!” He groans. Loudly. “There. I said it. This goddamn movie goddamnblows.”

“I think it’s good.” I’m lying. Enduring this film is the equivalent of watching paint dry. Not even the pot we just smoked can make this experience even the slightest bit enjoyable, but I don’t want to admit that I’d made the wrong choice. You can’t give a guy like Dean the win. Ever. He’ll lord it over me until the end of time.

“There’s no way you like this movie,” he challenges.

“I do,” I insist.

He stares me down for several seconds, but myacting skills come in handy, allowing me to convey pure innocence.

“Well, I don’t. This is a whole new level of brutal.”

I offer a helpful suggestion. “Why don’t you go upstairs and jerk off again?”

Shit. Wrong thing to say. His green eyes instantly take on a seductive glint.

With a lazy grin, he leans toward me and drawls, “How about you do it for me?”

This guy is incorrigible. “Are we back to this? Do youevertake no for an answer?”

“I’m not familiar with that word. Nobody’s ever said it to me before.” He moves closer again, resting his palm on the cushion between us and giving the fabric a slow stroke. “Come on, let’s make this party more interesting. We’re home alone… We’re both good-looking…”

I snicker.

“It’ll be fun. Sex is always fun.”

“Pass.”

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