Page 20 of Top Scorer
“No,” I answer too quickly, the word snapping out of me.
Her lips curl up at the corners, the beginning of a smile. “You sure about that? Did you think I had a fridge magnet ready for our vacation pictures, Tristan? Or maybe a Pinterest board of our beach wedding?”
She’s practically chortling now, her hand flicking in the air like the idea is too ridiculous to even land.
When she describes the scenario that way, my hesitation does seem a little ridiculous. Maybe Iamoverreacting. I left her house because I had felt vulnerable and raw and clingy in the worst way.Add to that, I had a hard-on that drained blood from my brain and diminished my ability to think straight.
Kind of like right now.
I shift my weight and look at her intently, my fingers twitching to grab her again. Her gorgeous smile is perfectly unreadable.
“What are you proposing, Ligaya?”
She taps her chin and purses her lips, like she’s choosing from a menu of bad decisions. Then, she shrugs. “One night. Scratch the itch. Then we go back to being acquaintances who pretend it never happened.”
“What a romantic.” My sarcasm pushes away the tug-of-war inside me. On the one hand: yeah, let’sdothis! On the other,pretend it never happenedfeels like an impossible task.
She arches a brow, assessing my reaction.
“Do you want candles? I’ve got a Glade PlugIn at home.” She says it with a smirk, but her gaze doesn’t waver. There’s heat behind the joke, a glimmer of challenge.
“You’re serious,” I utter incredulously.
“Why not? Aren’t you curious what it would be like to be ruined by your high school nemesis?”
“So, youhavebeen wanting me to ruin you,” I tease, although it comes out raspy. I sound like the thirsty man I am.
“You’ve got it the other way around, Tristan. I’m the one doing the ruining, thank you very much.”
Ligaya is being direct in proposing a one-night stand. I can handle this sassy, casual version of her. Especially if it leads tomoreof her.
“How sweet that you think you could.”
“IknowI could.”
She’s not wrong. It’s quite possible she’s halfway there.
CHAPTER 11
LIGAYA
The heat of his words against my neck, the ridge of his cock behind me, the firmness of his hand against my stomach—everything about our bodies touching is somehow both too much and not enough. Tristan Thorne’s groin is the only thing keeping me standing when my knees give out.
“You guys—oh shit, sorry!” A shrill voice makes us jump away from each other. Sydney giggles through her apology. “On my way home! Thanks for everything, Ligaya. Nice meeting you, Tristan. Resume your, um, cooking!”
Tristan gives her a wave, but his eyes are glued to my face. Then, he does the weirdest thing. He grazes my forehead to move my hair. Twice.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he admits.
“Pin me over a counter full of appetizers?”
He shakes his head. “This,” Tristan says, repeating the brush of fingers on my forehead. Twice. “You do it all the time.”
“That’s either the sweetest thing anyone has noticed about me, or the precursor to a stalker movie.”
“The night is young. Things could go either way,” he teases.
Continuing to flirt with Tristan is a bad idea, but I’ve come to realize I’m turning into a collector of bad ideas when it comes to this man.
