Page 3 of Crazy Love

As he approaches, he becomes clearer. A tall, painted mass of lean muscle teases me from behind his sexy black clothing. His chiselled jaw tics, his blue eyes are swirling pools of heat. “I want to change the game we’re playing. Something with higher stakes.”

A chill ricochets through my body. “What are you thinking?”

Anthony’s mouth lifts into a wicked smile. “I’m thinking you’ll crack before I will.”

Warmth creeps into my belly at the sight of his devilish expression.

“A bet,” he says. “First one to cave to the other loses. Winner gets whatever they want. We state the stakes now. No questions asked.”

The erratic rise and fall of my almost-bare chest should be embarrassing, but I’m too turned on to care. His body crowds my senses, and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my hands to myself. “What counts as caving?”

He grins. “I’m open to negotiating the terms, Red.”

I stare at his full lips and blurt out the first thing that enters my brain. “A kiss. First person to kiss the other loses.”

“What counts as a kiss?” Anthony lowers his head and presses his warm lips to my collarbone. My stomach bottoms out. “Does this count?”

His breath skates over my shoulder and it takes superwoman strength to not jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. “No. A kiss on the lips, with intent.”

He leans back, a smugness to his expression. “First one to kiss the other on the lips, got it. What do you want if you win?”

My gaze hovers on the tattoos painted over his vascular neck. “If I win, you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”

Anthony’s eyes flash with the promise of a challenge. “Deal. And if I win …” He pauses, stepping back and giving me some much-needed space to suck the oxygen out of the air. “If I win, I get to take you on a date.”

I blink, my rush of sexual energy coming to a screaming halt. “What?”

“If I win, you go on a date with me.”

I frown. “That’s what you want? A date?”

Anthony watches me with narrowed eyes and nods.

“Why?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He shakes his head. “We said no questions asked. Your full participation on a real date.”

I mull over his words. Our wants for winning this bet are vastly different. If his wanting to take me on a date has anything to do with my confessions about relationships and love, he’ll be disappointed. He wouldn’t be the first man to take on the challenge and fail miserably.

“If you’re too chickenshit, Red, it’s cool,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

I curve my lips into the sultriest smile I can muster before holding out my hand. “It’s a deal, smartass.”

As my hand slides into his, he yanks me forward, my hips colliding with his body. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home.”

I don’t hide my surprise. “What? Why?”

He turns away from me. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

My skin tingles at the way he commands me. My inner feminist roars with rage. “Oh, I get it. Getting rid of temptation. Scared I’m going to win?”

Anthony whips around and pushes me back against the kitchen island. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”

A gasp escapes my mouth as he runs his thumb down my hip, rubbing it across the spot where my tiny mandala tattoo sits. He latches onto my underwear, pulling it up with a snap on my hipbone and I squeak. “Even if you’re making it incredibly difficult for me to keep it in my pants.”

He spins and marches away, leaving me gasping for breath as if I’ve sprinted a race.

I look down and notice my G-string for the first time.

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