Page 78 of Most Likely to Score
“I don’t like it, either. All I want is to pull you close and stop pretending right now.”
“Me, too.”
Her hands wind more tightly around my neck, and I groan.
A soft murmur escapes her lips.
My gaze roams her gorgeous face, and I can see inher eyes, in the tightness of her jaw, in the rush of breath from her lips, that the fight is real for both of us.
Real and painful.
I want this fight to end. I want us to give in. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to kiss you senseless right now?”
“As hard as it is for me?”
I laugh softly, then the laughter fades. “I don’t know why I thought coming to a wedding with you would be a good idea. I feel like a starving man. I’m just trying to get crumbs. But now I have these crumbs, and I want to gobble the whole pie.”
She laughs. “A cherry pie.”
“Don’t say words like cherry. It’s too sexy. It turns me on. They make me think of all the things I want to do to you. You’re like a cherry, and I want to eat you up.”
“I want you to eat me up like a cherry.”
“You’re. Killing. Me. We need to get out of here.”
Worry flickers across her face. “Don’t you think it would be obvious if we left together?”
“Yeah, but I kind of don’t care anymore.”
“Sneaking around is risky,” she whispers, caution coloring her tone. “You know it’s dangerous.”
“I know, but we can pull this off. We have to.”
Her eyes flash with the same desperation I feel. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t stand not having you tonight. Are you with me on this?”
She glances around briefly, as if she’s debating her options. When her gaze returns to me, she nods. “I’llsay my goodbyes and leave first. Then you stay behind ten minutes or something, so it’s not obvious. I’ll wait in the car until you make it out.”
I nod approvingly. “Look at you, making plays, devising strategies.”
“Finding openings,” she adds, with a lift of her eyebrows.
“Hell, yeah. That’s my favorite thing to do. I’d like to find one with you.”
“I have an—” Jillian freezes, her gaze locked across the dance floor. “Lily’s here.” She whispers the warning, creating distance between us. “She must have come for the reception.”
Jillian fixes on a smile, waving as she makes eye contact with her boss, who’s chatting with a small girl by her side. I recognize the kid as Olivia, Lily’s daughter. I’ve met her a few times. She’s nine, and she told me I was her favorite Renegade, so I take a chance. After I say hello to the head of the publicity department, I bend down and ask her daughter if she wants to dance.
Olivia beams, and we head to the dance floor to cut a rug to a fast tune.
She shimmies. She shakes. She laughs. “You’re a good dancer,” she says.
“Not as good as you.”
“But you’re better at catching the football.”
I wipe a hand across my brow as I move my hips, bopping along to the beat. “Boy, am I glad to hear that.”
