Page 27 of Mad Rivals
I’m flustered, and I forcibly remove my hands from his chest. His hard, firm, expansive chest.
Jesus.
“I’m grabbing lunch, which I assume you’re doing. No?” He smirks at me. The bastard freakingsmirks.
“I am, and I’m here with someone.” I’m not sure why I make it sound ambiguous. I’m here with my best friend.
“Mm. I came alone.” His words drip with sex, and I don’t even know why.
God, what is wrong with me?
I fold my arms across my chest. “Well, enjoy your solo lunch, then.”
“Maybe I could join you. A working lunch,” he suggests.
I hate how thrills light up my spine at the offer. “No thanks. I’m good.”
I’m in no waygood.
“Are you here on a date?” he asks.
“Not that it’s any of your business, no.” I tap my pointer finger on the opposite bicep. “I’m here with my best friend, and we have a lot to discuss.”
“Like that hot football player you’re partnering with on the SCS project?” he asks.
“Make no mistake, Bradley. We arenotpartners, nor will we ever be,” I snarl.
He holds up both hands in surrender. “Easy, tiger,” he says.
I glare at him. “Tiger? You’re making up pet names for me now?”
He chuckles as if he gets a rise out of ticking me off. He’s damn good at it, that’s for sure. “It wasn’t a pet name when it slipped out, but it does seem to fit.”
“Okay, then, mule.”
His brows dip. “Mule?”
“Yeah, you know. Like an ass.” I raise a pointed brow as I purse my lips, and boom! I finally got in a jab when I seem to turn into jelly around this man.
He laughs.
The bastardlaughs.
This is not going well, and I’m only saved from more of this misery when the lady at the counter calls my order number.
“Excuse me,” I say, needing to move past him to get to the counter, but he doesn’t budge. I huff out a breath and squeeze my way past him, and my ass happens to rub along his body as I move.
And holy. Freaking. Shit.
Is that a banana in his pocket, or is he as affected by these random run-ins as I am?
Is heturned onby this banter we can’t seem to escape?
I gasp a little and turn to look at him, and when our eyes meet, there’s a definite heat there. And he’s smirking again—or maybe still.
The more I interact with him, the more I want to slap that smirk right off his hot face. Why does he have to be so hot and also so completely off-limits at the same time?
Because just to be totally clear, heisoff-limits. Not only are we working together on this project, but he’s also my family’s sworn enemy, which means that even though I’m not really all that close to my father, he’smyenemy, too.
