Page 56 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

His jaw drops.

Hell,myjaw drops.

I can’t believe I just said that.

It would seem horny, hasn’t-had-sex-in-over-a-year Lacey has officially taken over my body.

The shock on his face morphs into desire. Then he leans in to whisper, “You’d better start watching your mouth around me, Mattson. You keep saying shit like this and Iwillbend you over in the middle of the locker room.”

My stomach clenches.

I want him to.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be on a date. Aaron is waiting for me in the next room, for crying out loud.

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s the thing with threats, Jacobs. They don’t mean anything unless you act on them.”

I immediately know I’m not prepared for the consequences saying that to him will bring.

He looks like he’s considering eating me alive. I almost wuss out and tell him I didn’t mean it, but the truth is, I do, and I’ve never craved someone as much as I crave him right now.

“Feeling brave, are we?” His fingers curve around the back of my neck, and he tugs at my scalp, using his grip on my hair to jerk me closer.

His lips descend over mine with such urgency that my legs become wobbly. I’m so engulfed in the way his tongue feelstracing the seam of my mouth that I barely realize his hand dropped to my ass.

I’m glad I decided to wear spandex shorts under my dress. The extra layer brings me a sense of security. It serves as a guarantee that we won’t let this get too far.

Because we can’t.

All that talk about bending me over in the middle of the locker room was just that—talk.We’ll just make out a little…

Right?

What he does next plants seeds of doubt into my mind. He boxes me in against a locker, bringing his body so impossibly close to mine I can feel his arousal prodding my stomach.

His fingers dig into my thigh, drawing a whimper out of me, but it doesn’t indicate pain. This is need. He seems to read me loud and clear, continuing to leave marks all over my legs before circling my throat with his other hand.

His lips attach themselves to my collarbone, planting kisses up and down the curve of it. “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that? You can’t just stop talking to me for three days. Don’t do that shit again.”

I don’t answer. Ican’t. The pressure of his mouth on my neck won’t allow it.

“Oh, and next time you get jealous, spare me the silent treatment and fucking ask.”

His comment sets me off. “I wasn’t jealous!”

The sly smile playing on his lips makes my blood boil. “Yeah, you were. And I fucking love it.”

I don’t get a chance to argue before he’s kissing me again, our tongues engaging in a dance so intense it leaves me breathless.

“You were jealous, too,” I manage to say when we pull away for air. I sound pathetic. Like I’m desperate to deny that the guy I once couldn’t stand got under my skin.

And he did.

Whatever I feel for him, it’s not just friendship.

And yeah, maybe it’s physical. But there’s also a connection there, something I was starting to think I’d never experience again.

“Never said I wasn’t, rich girl. Now, are you going to let me kiss the fuck out of you or just keep stating the obvious?”

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