Page 160 of How to Win the Girl

One.

Two.

I hold up two fingers. Then a third.

Than a fourth.

I wiggle my hand and slide my heeled shoe up the calf of his leg beneath the table.

Down.

Up.

Raise a brow and smile, laughing at his expression.

“Stop it, or I’ll get a boner.”

“You won’t get a boner because I’m rubbing your leg with my shoe,” I tell him, confidently.

“Wanna make a bet? Keep it up if you want to find out.”

“You’re not that easy to turn on.”

“I am when it’s you.”

“Then you’re lucky I’m not barefoot because I’d probably want to put my toes between your legs and—” You know. Feel about for your cock.

I don’t say it, but I don’t have to. He’s hanging on my every word.

“I like this flirty side of you,” he says, sipping his drink. “I also like the casual side of you.”

“I was only casual with you when I wasn’t taking this seriously.”

“What do you mean?”

One of my shoulders raises up and down. “I wasn’t sure how all this would work out.” Still do not, obviously. “You’re you, and I’m me, and…you know.”

“What does that mean? You’re you, and I’m me?”

“I had it in my head that I’m too basic—plain or whatever. Not like the girls you see online who date players, and I just thought—”

“We talked about this. I’m a normal person who doesn’t want to do anything but play football and come home and eat and not deal with people. I’m not lookin’ for a girl who wants to put me on blast all over the damn internet ’cause she’s thirsty. I want someone like you.”

Well then.

“Come here,” he says gruffly, tugging at my hand.

“What.”

“Come here.” He pulls gently so I stand, pulling me around to his side of the table, wrapping his arms around my waist, then pulling me onto his lap.

I flush. “Drake, we’re in public.”

“So what? I want to hug you.”

And by hug, he means kiss me, arms so long and hands so big he’s practically cupping my boobs with one of them—either that or he’s totally doing it on purpose, thumb on the swell of my breast.

He kisses me with his other hand on my thigh.

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