Page 4 of Scrimmage

“Good thing I don't have any.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you. At least I’m not a missionary egotistical asshole with an unhealthy relationship with being competitive.”

“Watch it,” he growls in warning.

“Did mommy tell you that you’re perfect?” I laugh. “That you hang the fucking moon?”

Whack!The sting across my cheek is harsh. What the fuck? My knees almost give out from the slap because it has made me so hot. I can’t think straight.

If he didn’t look confused before, he looks confused as fuck now. “Did you just…moan?”

Shit. I did. Dammit. Stupid, stupid,stupid.It would be nice if I could, at some point, get some modicum of self-control.

“I...Fuck. I didn’t mean to hit you. I swear." He seems surprised at himself, blinking at me. “You keep running your fucking mouth. I just—”

“Again.”

Golden Boy is staring at his palm when he looks back at me and swallows. “What?”

“Hit me again.”

“You’re fucking psychotic." He starts to back away with disgust.

“What? Too much of a bitch?” I challenge him.

Something in him changes. He tilts his head to the side and studies me. His fingers come up to my cheek and dance along my cheekbone where a handprint has probably bloomed. “You want me to hit you again?”

I nod. “Please.”

This guy has control issues and anger issues. My heroine. I see he isn’t going to do it, so I decide to push the envelope. I’m too curious and horny to leave just yet. Worst case, I tease Cole a little bit and see where that goes.

He curls his lip, looking at me like I’m trash. “Filthy bitch. Shut your mouth before I do it for you.”

He’s fighting with some semblance of morality. I’m comfortable with who I am, but this guy? He’s torn between his perfect image or desire. Desire always wins.

“Are you man enough to do it, Golden Boy? Or are you ashamed of yourself?”

Whack!

His hand lightly rubs circles on my cheek. “I told you to shut your fucking mouth.”

“Shouldn’t you get back to your groupies and leave me the fuck alone?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes watch my mouth like he’s trying to make a decision. He grabs my chin in a punishing grip between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him. “You’re soaking wet already, aren’t you? I'll bet you’re ready to be fucked.”

Desire wins. I squeeze my thighs together, but he reaches down and shoves them apart, scraping my back up the tree trunk. His fingers yank the loops of my jean shorts down around my ankles, and he lifts me out of them, shoving me back into the bark.

“Hey.” I glare at him. “I’m here with—” His hand swipes through my slit, and it’s way too slick. My pussy has betrayed me.

“With who? That desperate accounting major?” Golden Boy forces me to look through the trees where Cole stands with his phone to his ear while mine buzzes in my swimsuit top. He pulls it out and holds it up. I see Cole’s contact on the screen. Shit.

“Answer,” he demands. I shake my head back and forth trying to refuse. His thumb presses the green phone, and the call from Hell has begun.

“Ash?” Cole's voice, full of concern, is way too loud coming from the speaker.

Golden Boy’s breath tickles my ear. “Talk, or I stop.” He slides his finger back between my folds, making a sweat break out across my skin.

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