I lean against the counter and set the timer on my phone. “Only sometimes.”
“True. I managed to please you just fine.”
I arch an eyebrow up at him. “I thought we weren’t doing that. Talking about it and flirting.”
“I wasn’t. I swear.”
“Uh-huh. And that shit-eating grin on your face?”
He pushes away from the counter and cages me in, his hands on either side of me, his face inches from mine as he dips down. “I can’t help it. I try. I really do. But something about you is like being on the edge of temptation to me, and no matter how long I’m good for, you always manage to turn me bad again.”
“You need to work on that,” I playfully reprimand, even though my heart is pounding.
“I know. And I will. I promise. I’ll go back to keeping my distance. But one more taste won’t kill me, right?” He murmurs that last part almost as if he’s talking to himself.
Without warning, he dips and kisses me. A groan sears past his lips, and he picks me up and puts me on the counter before his hands dive into my hair, and he consumes my mouth.
He tastes like chocolate and smells like snow, and I’m instantly lost in him. In this. My hands grip his arms, and I hold on, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, but there’s no way I can stop. Forget the edge of temptation, his kisses throw me straight to the edge of chaos.
His tongue swirls with mine, and he angles my head so he can deepen the exchange.
I moan, and he bites my bottom lip, almost punishingly. His tongue licks away the sting, and he pulls back, his forehead pressing to mine, his breathing labored.
“If only I didn’t have such a smart, sexy wife, it might be easier to stay away.”
He winks and pushes away from me to join Zoey on the sofa. And I’m smiling. I just am. The man makes me smile like the teenage girl I never was. A girl with an unfortunate crush on her fake husband.
It’d be the perfect day. You know. If any of this were real.
26
SKYLAR
“Remind me what we’re doing here again?” I ask Braelyn as I glance around the industrial space coated with a layer of dust and grime. There’s a crowd of people lining up, all skirting each other’s eyes as if no one wants to be seen or recognized, though I do recognize several of them.
“Roman has a fight tonight. Duh.”
“Yes. Clearly. How did we not talk Quinn or Crew into coming?”
“Quinn has a shift tonight, and Crew can’t be seen here. He’d be kicked off the team for sure. Besides, how much longer are you going to be able to do this?”
“You mean how much longer am I going to be able to go to illegal, underground fights?”
“Yes. Soon you’ll be home with a new baby. Think of all you’ll be missing. All this flash and excitement. The adrenaline. The vibe. You feel it?”
“I feel it, but…” I trail off. I’ve been to Roman’s fights before. They’ve all been similar to this, but there’s typically a lot of pushing and shoving when things really get going.
“Don’t worry.” She squeezes my forearm as we walk our way along the wall of the building. “He has us in a marked-off section. You’ll be safe.”
“Good. Okay.”
Fights aren’t my thing, and this is only my second or third that I’ve attended. I don’t like watching two guys trying to bludgeon each other. I especially hate when Roman get hit, but he rarely does. He’s the one to try and beat, and I’m not sure anyone has. He’s big and fast and cagey.
“Hey. You’re here,” Forest greets us as we reach the roped-off area. He’s holding a soda and adjusts it in his hand as he gives us each a hug.
“We’re here,” I exclaim. “You know, it’s not as though I worked a twelve-hour shift and am tired or anything.”
Braelyn rolls her eyes at me as she steals Forest’s Diet Coke so she can have a sip. “You agreed. I didn’t drag you. And I worked a twelve too. You don’t see me complaining.”
