Page 81 of Never Your Girl

He sounds dreamy!! I can’t wait to meet him. Although, Hammer will be disappointed. I really talked you up.

“Well, would you look at that?” His voice is rougher than usual. “Guess I’m meeting Mama Tate after all.”

I throw an irritated glance over my shoulder, trying to ignore how scattered his proximity makes me. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Nah.” When he steps closer, it becomes necessary to tilt my chin upward to meet his gaze. “Added bonus, you won’t be going on a blind date with some guy named Hammer.”

“Hmm. It almost sounds like you’re worried about me, Sanderson.”

He shrugs. “Just looking out for my fake girlfriend.” But there’s an edge to his voice that makes my pulse skip. “Can’t have you getting dismembered during playoffs. It would be a bad look for the team.”

“That is so thoughtful of you. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a giver.” He flashes a grin. “I think you found that out for yourself the other morning.”

The memory of him grinding against me until I orgasmed rushes in, and heat explodes in my core. I’ve been thinking about that moment way more than I should. And it’s not like I packed my trusty vibe with me to take care of business.

Although, who knew I’d need it?

“Penny for your thoughts, Tate.” He cocks his head. “Actually, I’d be willing to pay a lot more than that.”

I’m not a girl who blushes easily, but I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

Before I can wrap my lips around a response, he says, “And don’t tell me nothing.” There’s a pause. “Or maybe you’re just chickenshit? Cause I didn’t take you for that either.”

Well, hell.

Now I’m trapped.

He’s right. I’ve never been scared to voice my opinions or tell someone exactly how I feel. And I don’t want to start now.

My gaze stays locked on his as I lift my chin. “I was just thinking about how good that morning felt.”

His eyes darken, turning gunmetal in hue, as he steps closer until the broad expanse of his chest presses against the steady rise and fall of my breasts. The delicious contact is enough to have my nipples peaking. The way his pupils dilate, the black swallowing up the varying shades of gray, tells me that he feels them.

“It did feel good,” he whispers before walking me backward until my ass hits the edge of the table. “I can’t stop wondering what your pussy tastes like. Makes me wish I’d taken the time to find out.”

My breath catches as more liquid heat pools in my core and dampens my panties. I shift as my thighs clench with need.

When was the last time a guy turned me on this much?

One whose name wasn’t Bridger Sanderson?

It’s pretty revealing that I can’t recall.

He’s certainly not the only guy I’ve slept with, but he’s the only one who left an indelible mark.

I brace my palms on the smooth surface and tilt my face upward to meet Bridger’s eyes. The heat in his gaze makes my breath catch. The instant his lips crash into mine, the world narrows until there’s nothing but the press of his mouth, the warmth of his body caging mine. Bridger has this infuriating ability to make me forget everything.

Where we are.

The reason we’re pretending.

Why I shouldn’t want this.

His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and I open without hesitation. The kiss is all-consuming. A heady rush of sensation that leaves me dizzy and unmoored. He tastes like mint and something darker, more addictive. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I forget all the reasons this is a bad idea just waiting to explode in my face.

I’m pulled from those thoughts when someone clears their throat.

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