“No fair,” she said later that afternoon. “You’ve had a lot more practice than me playing pool.”
Rowan lined up the cue ball, then hit it and sunk the eight in the right middle pocket.
Game number three he’d won.
She wasn’t even close to holding her own, barely able to get half her balls in each time and most of it was by sheer luck.
“Where did you learn to play?” he asked. “I can’t see you going to pool halls.”
“College,” she said. “There were a few tables around campus in the halls and gathering places. It was something to do during breaks.”
It’s not like she played with boys often. Just her and her friends. Her friends were doing it to get the attention of boys. She could have cared less, but it was still fun.
“Did the guys come over and try to teach you how to play? You know.” He moved closer to her, standing behind her, putting the stick in her hand, then taking her arms and leaning with her to show her how to line up. “Just like this.”
His crotch was against her ass and she was fighting everything she had not to turn around so they were facing each other.
Did she want another kiss?
Yes, please!
Rowan Carlisle sure had some scrumptious lips on him and knew how to use them.
“If you did that to me in college, then I’d be more receptive. But not the boys back then.”
He turned her, picked her up and put her butt on the pool table, then stepped between her legs.
It was as if he read her mind.
“There were no women like you when I was in college.”
She laughed. “You’re fibbing and we know it.”
He closed one eye at her. “My tastes then and now are completely different.”
She wasn’t sure what to believe.
She’d heard the comment by his one brother. The one about always finding a way.
There was no reason to ask what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know either.
Her time here was going to be fun, and nothing to take seriously. She did that too much in her life.
She put her arms around his neck. “I could say the same.”
His mouth lowered to hers, his tongue invading, then dancing, her head angling to the side to let him get better access.
He didn’t move closer to the apex between her legs. She would have liked it but wasn’t in the habit of throwing herself at men.
When he stopped kissing her, he dropped his forehead to hers.
“Tell me I’m not alone with what I’m feeling,” he whispered.
“That’s an open-ended statement.”
He laughed. A forced one. “Based on the way you’re kissing me, the physical attraction is shared. But that isn’t what I wanted to know.”
She leaned back on her palms, the green felt rough on her skin. “What do you want to know?”
