Page 11 of Who's Your Daddy?

“I don’t, actually. If I had to be honest, all this fuckboy behavior stems from deep-rooted insecurities.”

“And what, pray-tell, could you possibly be insecure about?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping as if he’s carrying the full weight of all his teenage trauma on them. “Well, my jaw is just...not chiseled enough.”

A laugh almost pops out of me, but I hold it back. To his credit, he’s kinda funny, and I decide to indulge these fabricated insecurities simply because it’s a free ticket to fling insults at him. “True. Your jawline is pathetically weak. I don’t even know how you chew. What else?”

“I know you really enjoyed them, but I think my lips could be fleshier.” He pulls those sexy lips in to stop a smile when he notices me squirm.

I maintain my composure and keep a straight face. “They are too thin, but it’s nothing a little collagen can’t fix.”

“I also have a lazy eye.”

Rubbish!His eyes are perfect just like everything else on his stupid, perfect face.

“You’re right!” I shift forward, leaning over the table to pretend as if I’m trying to get a better look. “That is one lazy eye. It’s probably taking strain just working on your peripheral vision.”

He snickers.

“Shit, that eye is so lazy I just wanna yell at it to stop watching Netflix and get a damn job!”

He cracks up, and the sound of his heartfelt laughter makes me crack up, too. His eyes light up, and I hate the fact that the amused expression on his face just made him ten times hotter. I honestly don’t understand his appeal. I shouldn’t find him as attractive as I do.

He leans closer, gently brushing his thumb over my chin. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really cute, dollface?”

“It’s Mahalia. But if that’s too tough for you, you can call me Lia.”

“Dollface suits you better.”

My eyes narrow with vexation. “Is that the best you got? Here I thought you came top of your class in fuckboyology, and you try to hit on me with lines like ‘you’re really cute,dollface?’” I snort. “That attempt isn’t getting anything more than a two. I expected more from you.”

“You know, I’m not sure if it’s your overactive imagination or your over-inflated ego that’s causing you to misread the entire situation. I told you earlier. If I were hitting on you, you’d know it.” He says this even as his thumb continues to caress my chin.

I should move away. I should stop getting lost in the intricate gray flecks floating around in the deep green sea of his eyes and shift back. But something about the way he’s looking at me keeps me entranced. He’s not merely looking. He’s studying my every feature. Staring into my eyes with awe. Focusing on my mouth with intent.

Maybe it’s because Teddy just dumped me so brutally, but the appreciation of his gaze is very disarming. I swear, he’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful woman on Earth. And I know that can’t be true, because supermodels and pageant queens probably account for most of the notches on his bedpost. But that look is overriding all logic and exploiting all my insecurities. That look is exactly the kind of band-aid my shattered self-esteem needs right now.

“So, I’m misreading the way you’re touching me right now?” I ask, sounding slightly breathless.

His thumb gently traces my lower lip. “Yep.”

“And I’m just imagining that you keep moving closer?”

“All in your head.”

I’m starting to see why he aced fuckboyology. The rizz this man possesses is off the charts. He shifts a fraction closer and my breath hitches. Warning bells go off in the pit of my stomach. They feel a lot like butterflies, but I’m sure they’re warning bells, desperately trying to deter me from the trouble sitting right in front of me.

It’s hard to listen to the deafening alarms because it wasn’t that long ago that his lips were pressed against mine. My mouth definitely remembers that because it begins to tingle, as if it’s craving that feeling again. I catch my lower lip between my teeth to suppress the urge, and he smiles. That smile is a clear sign he knows exactly the effect he has on me.

It’s enough to snap me out of it. “I still rate it a two.”

Another laugh tumbles out of him.

“Whatever that whole act was, it was pathetic. Please ask Mr. Tate for your money back.”

He drops his head, using one hand to hide the embarrassment on his face, but light chuckles continue to spurt through his fingers.

“I honestly wish I was more impressed. But you know what? A for effort. You just hang in there and keep trying, and I promise one day, that borderline sleazy cockiness might just come off as charming.”

---