Page 159 of How to Win the Girl

Weird how I’m turned on by that.

The good news is, he can conduct himself in public as if he were one, at least making a gallant effort at it, though I can see right through Drake Colter.

Still.

His eyes have not left my face.

He asks about my day. He asks about classes. He tells me about training and a meeting he has coming up and how football begins in a few weeks so they’re going to be working out and practicing in pads soon.

In this heat? Awful.

But.

I can picture him in those tight, navy pants the players wear. I can also picture him in only a pair of shoulder pads, no shirt beneath it, sexy, sweaty abs, and a trail leading from his belly button to his—

“You have that look in your eye,” he tells me, reminding me yet again that he has not once glanced down at my tits.

“Funny how I suddenly have a look when I’m thinking certain thoughts.” I punctuate the sentence by wiggling my brows, taking a sip from my wineglass, a fruity white that will taste delightful with my meal.

“Do I want to know what you were thinkin’ about this time, or am I not allowed to know?”

He loves this game.

“Well.” I set down the bread in my hands so I can lean in a little closer. “I was imagining what you looked like in your football uniform…with no shirt on. But I was also wondering why you haven’t looked at my boobs.”

If he’s surprised by this pronouncement, it is not showing on his face. “Who says I haven’t looked at your boobs?”

“You haven’t. I’ve been watching you watch me, and your eyes haven’t strayed south.”

He laughs. “That’s a crock of shit. I have too looked at your boobs. They’re great boobs.”

“When?”

“When you’re not looking?”

I sit back in my seat, pleased by this news. “Oh, okay. Good.”

Drake laughs again. “You were pissed I haven’t been checkin’ out your rack? My god, you’re adorable.”

Checking out my rack?

Er.

“I mean, it’s not every day I get to show them off.” And Stella has them bronzed up and contoured between, shadowing the valley in the middle so they look bigger than they actually are.

Drake sets down his cocktail glass and reaches over to take my hand, stroking the top of it with his thumb.

“You have beautiful tits.” He pauses. “I can’t wait to see you naked.”

I swear, my entire body blushes.

“Have you, um, been…” Um. “Counting down the dates?”

“It’s only five dates, so it’s not like it’s hard.” He shrugs. “Have you?”

I shrug, too, trying to be nonchalant, debating about whether to be honest.

“I’ve always been good at math.”

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