Page 54 of I Could Be Yours

I laugh. “No. I’m a friend of Nate’s.”

“Right, yeah. I’m pretty sure we would have noticed you in the break room.” Gordon gives Nate a quirked brow.

“What do you do? Are you a model or something?” Neil asks. I’m sure he’s just trying to make polite conversation.

“I’m a makeup artist.”

“Like at the mall?”

I fight not to roll my eyes. This is so awkward. I don’t want to feel self-conscious, or less than, but Nate is brilliant, and surrounded by book-smart people. “You’re probably thinking of a cosmetics store. I work with TV actors on set,” I explain.

Neil’s eyes glaze over. “Right. Got it.”

“It’s an art, really.” Nate sweeps my hair over my shoulder and wraps his arm possessively around me. “Essie sees beauty in everything and knows exactly how to enhance it.” He gazes down at me, expression intense. “But you’re not an alchemist; you’re a chemist and a creative.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a chemist,” I hedge.

“Really? You know the chemical composition of the products you use, just like I know the chemical composition of steel.”

I grin, remembering how sexy it was to have him reciting that random fact while naked between my thighs. “You should never combine alpha or beta hydroxy or vitamin C with niacinamide or you’ll look like you were running in the August heat.”

“I wish you’d been my chemistry partner in high school,” Nate murmurs.

“I’m not sure we would have gotten much work done, but after-school study sessions would have been way more exciting.”

“I wouldn’t mind a time travel machine right about now,” Nate says.

I smile sweetly up at him. “That’s what role play is for.”

Greg clears his throat.

I’d completely forgotten we had an audience.

All of the guys are staring at us. Malcom’s face is red.

“Nate’s up,” Greg says helpfully.

“Right. Yeah.” Nate releases me and steps up to the table.

None of the remaining shots are easy.

Nate rubs his chin.

I want to rub my thighs together.

He moves around the table, eyeing the shot, and gets into position. But I can see from this angle that he’ll be off, not by much, but enough.

“Hold on.” I come around behind him.

He looks over his shoulder as I press my body against his.

He raises a brow. “We’re on the same team, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to be distracting me.”

I lean over him. “You want me to distract everyone else?”

“Not like this, no.”

“You’re going to miss the shot; I’m helping.” I adjust his left hand, fingers dragging across his broad back as I circle him, and adjust the right one, then kiss him on the cheek. “You’re all set.”

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