Elliott’s fingers trail up my arm, the warmth of his body close enough that I can feel him at my back. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Is that why you smell so fucking good today? No blockers?”
Tingles flow down my spine, and my heart pounds in my chest. His nose grazes my neck as he inhales deeply.
“Mmm, you’re a naughty omega,” he purrs, and the way he says it makes my toes curl. High-definition cameras are probably picking up on every single reaction I’m having, especially how hard my nipples just got. I bite down on my lower lip, trying to stay focused as my lashes brush my cheeks, holding back a whimper.
I step away from his warmth, spinning back toward the three of them with an unsteady grin. “We have a game to get to.”
They each watch me with varying looks of need that have my heart doing acrobatics and slick gathering between my legs. Attempting to ignore it, I back up two steps beforeturning on my heel and leading the way to the mini-golf course.
I lean against the post that reads ‘Hole 1’ and gesture to the starting mat. “I’ll let you guys go first, so you aren’t discouraged by my abilities.”
“Eli can go first,” Miles says, moving aside to give him room. “But I think we need to make this even more competitive. How about for each hole in one we make, we get to make a request of whoever we want.”
I tilt my head to the side and tap my lips as if I’m deep in thought. Then I nod. “Deal. But camera-friendly.”
Elliott chuckles, dropping his green ball to the middle dot. He stands over it, his putter looking too short for him, and wiggles his butt jokingly as he lines up his shot. Then, with a smooth tap, the ball rolls down the straightaway, bounces off the back wall, and goes straight into the hole.
“Nice,” Rafe cheers.
“Just the first of many,” Elliott replies. He steps over the frame block of the first course and closes the distance between us. “Time to pay up for the first hole.”
My lips part as his hand lands on my hip, drawing me closer with ease. The breath freezes in my lungs as his eyes dip to my lips.
“Think you can handle my expert putting?” He winks at me suggestively, clearly joking, but there’s a deeper intensity in his gaze that makes it hard to breathe.
A bark of surprised laughter punches from my lungs, and he grins down at me. It’s like slow motion as he closes the distance between us. Then his soft lips press against mine in the barest touch. And although he doesn’t deepen it, electricity flows between us. My heart races inside my chest as if it needs to replace the blood that has left my head, making me lightheaded. My fingers curl into his shirt, tugging himcloser, and for a moment, I forget everything except how good this feels.
With a groan, he pulls back, ending the kiss before it turns into something less PG. He swipes his tongue along his lower lip, as if he can still taste me, then brushes a stray hair away from my face and behind my ear. The tenderness of the gesture almost undoes me, but he steps back before I can pull him in again.
Rafe moves into position to putt, and I force myself to focus as his ball taps the back wall, barely bouncing off before coming to a stop on the wrong side of the tiny hill. I purse my lips, holding back a smile at his curse. Miles doesn’t do much better with his first shot, and neither do I.
By the time we’re on the sixth hole, Rafe is losing badly. I guess he isn’t that good at mini-golf. Miles has come close to a hole-in-one twice, while Elliott’s first shot is starting to look like beginner’s luck.
“I thought you said you were good at this,” Rafe says as I drop my pink ball to the mat. “Or do you want Elliott to win everything?”
I glance up at him. He’s leaning against the lighthouse in the center of the course, watching me. “I’m not the only one that sucks, apparently,” I shoot back.
He flashes his white teeth at me in amusement, then walks toward me on the fake green grass. “Are you saying you need help?”
He comes to a stop in front of me, his eyes dropping to the ball at his feet before slowly trailing from my Vans up to my face.
“I think it’s your stance,” he says before circling around me. His arms wrap around me, and I forget how to think. Then his fingers run over mine, still holding the putter, and he nudges my foot with his. “That’s it. Loosen up.”
I’m pretty sure I can’t be any looser as I melt into him. Allof this is probably for the cameras for him, but I eat it up. Maybe I’m more touch-starved than I thought. My perfume’s out of control, and I’ll be surprised if his whole outfit doesn’t smell like me now. Yet, part of me wants that. It wants to brand him as mine.
My head’s not focused on the mini-golf or the putting as he swings our arms and taps the ball. It rolls down the path and straight into the lighthouse, going out the other side and easily into a hole-in-one. It’s then that I realize he has been holding back. Intentionally not getting hole-in-ones. Did he lose on purpose at the race earlier too?
He releases me and steps back. “Looks like it’s your turn to make a request.”
I roll my lips together as my insides twist into a giant knot. Keeping it light and not calling him out, I say, “I haven’t kissed Miles yet.”
Rafe rolls his eyes and steps back, looking over at Miles. “Guess I need to win some requests of my own.”
My lips kick up at his sulky tone, but I turn toward Miles. He runs his fingers through his black silky hair as he steps forward into my space. He gently grips my throat in his large hand, using his thumb to tilt my head up with a soft pressure beneath my chin. His blue eyes flash with contained lust that makes me want to squirm. The whole world falls away as he lowers his face, brushing his lips over mine before capturing them fully.
His tongue runs over the seam, demanding entrance.
His kiss lights a fire inside of me, and I know he feels it too. His fingers tighten slightly on my throat, adding a delicious pressure I’m sure isn’t meant for TV. Yet, I don’t pull back. No, I lean into him, giving him the control he silently asks for.
