Page 23 of The Best Wrong Move

His voice is gravelly. His eyes burn into mine while he takes another slow step in my direction. I bite my lip again and shift my weight on the couch.

Okay, Airbnb guy. You’ve got some game.

“Technically, there are no other women in the room right now, so that’s an easy one.” My tone is challenging but nonchalant, like I’m egging him on, whether I mean to or not.

“Oh, I’m not done yet.” He twists his face into a suggestive grin before straightening his features out again. Then he rubs his jawline and takes another step toward me, getting back into character. The whole effect of his steps drawing closer — tightening the gap between us — while he’s staring at me with that look on his face — it’s all making my heart beat out of control.

“I’d also make sure that there’s no doubt about who you’re with while we’re out.”

“Mmm, that seems like it might be a bit trickier to do.” I frown slightly.

“Not when you’re with me.” He sounds arrogant, if not a little cocky. “Trust me, no one will question who you’re with when we’re together. I don’t really like to share when I’m out with a beautiful woman.”

“Rex would hate seeing that kind of thing.”

“That’s the idea.” He smiles. “But you’d have to be okay with me taking up space.”

“Taking up space?”

“Beside you. Existing in the same bubble. It has to look natural.”

“Natural,” I repeat, cocking my head to the side. “It’s been so long since I went out with anyone else, I’ve practically forgotten what a first date looks like.”

“Stand up.”

“I don’t think I need—”

“Stand up,” he repeats more forcefully, though a playful smile tugs at his lips.

“You can just—” But I stop talking when I see the look on his face. He’s definitely serious about me standing. “Okay, fine.” I get to my feet, then cross my arms over my chest, feeling a bit goofy for going along with the charade, even if I’m thoroughly enjoying it. It’s like we’re actors in a play and Dom is the director.

“The attraction has to look mutual, not like you’re repulsed.” He circles one finger toward my arms, which are laced protectively over my chest.

I huff and bring my arms back down to my sides, shifting on my feet.

“This is all a bit silly,” I protest, but he’s already closing the space between us.

“Liv.” He says my name gently, his tone suddenly warm and buttery smooth. “Can I call you Liv?”

Call me anything you want, I want to say. Especially when you say it like that. “Sure. Most of my friends call me Liv.”

“Liv. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight.”

Then he takes another step toward me as his eyes pour down my body, like melted bronze against my skin.

“It’s morning still—”

“Shh.”

I stifle a laugh as he takes the last step between us, but my breath hitches in the back of my throat when he slides one hand around my waist, bringing me into him. He keeps the one hand drawn around my spine, but squeezes his palm against my skin, pressing my body into his. I instinctively place a hand on his chest to pace us.

I swallow hard. Dom smells spicy and raw, like his cologne has been mixed with the fresh waves he probably surfed this morning.

He releases me to step back, but, as he does, he bends down to brush his lips against my cheekbone, right where my cheek meets my ear, kissing me so lightly that it sends another round of shivers down my limbs. I have to fight my knees not to buckle.

“Ready to go, sweetheart? My car’s waiting out front,” he says softly, right into my ear, sending goosebumps down each arm.

Fuck me.

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