Page 48 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

“Looking sharp.” Fraser gives me a high five, on his way to take his turn. His darts fly wide, and one of them even careens off the backboard and lands somewhere by the bar.

“Whoops,” he shrugs, unconcerned.

“You know, I like a good loser,” I remark, teasing. “Not many men would be comfortable sucking quite so badly.”

“Aye, I’m secure in my shitty performance,” he grins, still at ease. And all the sexier for it.

Down girl!

“That’s it for us,” Eddie says, finally giving a yawn. “I should be getting home.”

“Me too,” Neil agrees. “A pleasure playing with you both. Well, not you so much,” he adds, teasing Fraser, who laughs.

The men say their goodbyes and pay their tab—and then it’s just the two of us. It’s getting late by now, and the pub is emptying out as people brave the weather and head for home; the fire burning lower in the hearth, and the sound of the rain soothing against the windows.

“How about we make things interesting?” Fraser suggests casually, retrieving the darts from the board.

I drag my eyes away from his jeans. Or more specifically, the way the worn denim is hugging his ass…

“You mean, a wager? Sure,” I think of the sleeping arrangements upstairs, and spy my chance to make things clear. “Winner takes the bed tonight, alone. Loser sleeps on the floor.”

“Done.” Fraser nods. Then he casually steps up to the mark, raises his hand, and effortlessly sends a dart slicing straight into the bullseye ring of the target.

Wait,what?!

My jaw drops. I watch in stunned disbelief as he swiftly throws his next two darts in turn, burying them each nearby in the green bull ring.

Fraser turns back to me with a cocky grin. “That bed will be nice and comfortable after the long drive. Much appreciated.”

“I… You… You bastard!” I cry, as realization dawns. “You hustled me!”

Fraser grins, eyes full of mischief. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he says, throwing my words back at me.

I whimper. “Goodbye, soft, welcoming bed. I hardly knew you!”

“Ach, don’t worry. I’ll lend you a pillow,” Fraser smirks, taking a celebratory sip of beer.

“Have you been locked away in some dart-throwing bootcamp for the past decade?” I demand. “DartCamp?”

He chuckles. “Nothing like that. I had time to kill at my local one summer, that’s all. And with the kids running around at the house, it was the quietest place around to escape.”

“Well, congratulations. I guess,” I grumble. I hold out my hand, all sportsmanlike.

Fraser grips it in a firm shake. Our eyes lock.

He doesn’t let go.

Heat flares from the press of his palm against mine, sizzling through my body and engulfing me in an instant. Every ounce of lust and attraction I’ve been ignoring all day—all week—comes roaring to life, deep inside me. Insistent. Needy.

Craving him.

Fraser tugs, slowly, drawing me closer.

I go.

How could I not? It’s like gravity, the hold this man has on me; a force of attraction too powerful to resist. At least, that’s what I tell myself, as I shove aside all logic and reason, reach up around his neck, and pull his mouth to mine in a slow, devastating kiss.

Yes…

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