Page 57 of Behind the Net

“Not anymore,” I tell Jamie.

Our eyes meet, and the chill in his gaze fades a fraction. Is he thinking about when I told him he was gorgeous, or the kiss in the hallway?

“And all this.” His fingers squeeze my hip and his gaze roams my face, my hair, my dress. “It’s not for him?”

I laugh in disbelief. “What? Jamie,” I murmur. “Of course it’s not for him.”

His nostrils flare, and I have the urge to stroke my finger down his strong nose.

“What the fuck am I supposed to think, Pippa?” His green eyes flash and he grips my hip harder.

Oh. I like that feeling.

“You pulled out all the stops for this guy.” He runs his free hand back through his hair, messing it up. “It’s the ultimate revenge, isn’t it? To make him want you back?” His teeth clench. “To make him beg to fuck you?”

I’m speechless, blinking, jaw dropping to the floor in shock.

“Jamie,” I say, but I have no follow-up. I try to turn on his lap, but his big hands anchor me in place.

“Stop moving,” he bites out, and a moment later, I feel it—the hard press of his erection into my backside.

My eyes go wide.

I know tonight is fake, and this is probably just his body’s reaction to me sitting in his lap. This unsettled, angry side of Jamie is lighting me up, though, sending heat through my blood, and I’m hyperaware of his stiff length against me, his hands on my hips, the way his fingers brush the soft fabric, how they tense when he looks at my mouth.

It feels good to be someone more than the girl who got stepped on.

“That’s not the ultimate revenge,” I say softly.

His dark eyes meet mine, pinning me. His jaw ticks.

My mouth curves into a smile, and I don’t even recognize myself right now. “The ultimate revenge would be fucking you.”

CHAPTER28

JAMIE

I’mthe closest I’ve ever been to hauling this girl over my shoulder, taking her home, and forgetting all the rules I’ve made for myself.

Her mouth curves up and her eyes glitter with teasing as I replay the words she just said.

The ultimate revenge would be fucking you.

I wish.

In the car, I’d push this dress up, tear her panties off, and bury my face between her legs. I’d do it right there in the front seat. I wouldn’t care if anyone saw.

No—I’d do it here in front of Zach. I’d make her scream my name in front of all of these people. Drinks would get knocked into laps, people would stare as I thrust into her and made my pretty assistant mine. The girl I’ve wanted for-fucking-ever would come so hard on my cock.

My erection presses into her backside as I rein in my thoughts. From the second she walked out of her room in this dress, I alternated between fantasizing about tearing it off her and being irritated that she was dressing up to impress the fuckwit who’s desperate for attention.

Pippa’s eyes are locked on mine, gauging my reaction, and my teeth clench. I need to get my shit together. I do one of my mental centering exercises from hockey—deep breath, focus on the feeling of my lungs expanding and not the way my balls ache, listen to the music around us, the chatter and conversation, and try not to inhale the sweet scent of her hair. My thumbs brush the soft velvet of her dress, and I let that steal my entire focus.

I open my eyes. I’m still rock hard. I still want to fuck her.

“Pippa,” I start, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. I can’t think around her.

She shakes her head, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know why I said that.” The long line of her throat moves as she swallows, looking at her hands. “I owe you for this. Thank you so much.”

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