Page 48 of Fangirl Down

Wells dug his knuckles into his eye sockets and filled the suite with a semihysterical laugh. “You’ve lost it. You’ve completely lost it.”

That might have been true, but there was no denying that an atomic bomb of relief and pride and hope, goddammit, had imploded in his stomach when he’d pulled off her socks and seen those little blue miracles staring back at him. There they were, proof that Josephine still had faith in him. She was still his number one fan. Hehadn’tlost her. And there had simply been no way in hell he was going to let her regret that.

Wells pushed to his feet and paced to the bathroom, planting his hands on the marble vanity and looking himself in the eye. “Donotgo to her room.” He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Just don’t.”

It wasn’t as though the mere act of going to her room meant something sexual was going to happen. Strange things were taking place inside him, though. Every day that passed with this woman in his life, he shed another layer of numbness and indifference. He wasactuallylooking forward to playing golf tomorrow.

With her.

Near her.

Beside her.

Anywhere she happened to be.

Wells dropped his head forward. “Oh my God, get a fucking grip.”

He might have given her initiation rites when it came to flirting, but the complicated power dynamic between them remained. Currently, Josephine was depending on him for an income. She had a lot at stake.

His phone chimed in his pocket, dissipating his wayward thoughts.

Speak of the... angel.

It was Josephine.

Trying valiantly to ignore the tightness in his throat, Wells slid open the text message—and felt every ounce of blood in his body race south. It was a bathroom selfie of Josephine wearing her caddie uniform. And he didn’t know where the hell to look first. Because she’d definitely come through on her end of the bet. Big time.

No pants.

Nopanties, either, as far as he could tell.

“Holy mother of God.”

She’d tugged the hem of the pinnie down to cover her pussy, but the uniform was cut short by design, so he could see her hips, and there was no sign of underwear. Smooth porcelain as far as the eye could see, with a dusting of freckles in spots that made his mouth water. He was dying to grab and knead and lick her curves. Holy—she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, either, but it was afucking tease, because of the mesh. It allowed for only tiny peeks at the flesh beneath, but he wasn’t even going to pretend not to zoom in, trying to make out the dusky color of her nipples.

Right there. Puckered little circles.

He didn’t even care if his horny brain was filling in the blanks.

“Baby.” He raked a hand down the front of his pants and gripped himself. “Fuck.”

Josephine:Congrats on making the cut. Enjoy your new lock screen.

Wells took several deep breaths—and another five camera zooms—before texting back.

Wells:Fuck the trophy. I win. Forever.

Wells:The only thing missing is your face.

Her incredibly gorgeous face that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Josephine:Ah, come on. I don’t mind if you leave your face out of mine.

Josephine:In fact, I prefer it.

He made an affronted sound, his head lifting to study his reflection.

Wells:I give great face, belle, and you know it.

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