Page 68 of Worth the Risk

I can’t resist. The playful look on his face. The desire unrivaled between us. The relief that I acted like an irrational female and he took it with a complete grain of salt.

I tighten my finger on the trigger of the nozzle, sending a stream of water straight to his chest. He tries to jump out of the way, but he’s too close to avoid it.

“Oopsie.” I shrug and smile coyly.

“That wasn’t a very smart move.” There’s a roughness to his voice that electrifies the air as it telegraphs where his thoughts are. What it is he wants.

And I hope to God I’m right in thinking that it’s me.

“What are you going to do about it?” This time, I’m the one who taunts. I’m the one who teases. I’m the one who wants to finish what we’ve almost started a few times but had too much damn common sense to finish.

Another step.

I can smell the soap on his skin. I can see the beads of water on his neck and arms. I can hear the hitch of his breath. “There are a whole lot of things I could think to do about it, but I’m not sure which of them we’d regret the most once they were done.”

I squirt the hose again. This time, he flinches. This time, a laugh falls from his lips. This time, he lunges after me to grab the hose, and I dodge away from him, my fingers pulling the trigger so that I completely soak the front of his body.

The air fills with our shrieks and threats as I hit him and then run. As he dodges and then chases.

Around my car. Another stream of water. My sides hurt from laughing so hard, and I’m not paying attention as Grayson takes the hose lying on the ground and yanks on it, pulling the nozzle from my hands. I turn to run but realize I’m out of real estate. My back is against the fence, and Grayson is standing in front of me, nozzle pointed my way and a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, hoping for an ounce of mercy when I showed him none.

I yelp when the cold stream of water hits me in the stomach. “Oopsie,” he mimics me, and all I want to do is strangle him as the water slides down the denim of my shorts and over my thighs.

“Grayson.” It’s a plea. It’s a warning. It’s an oh my God does he look gorgeous with his hair plastered to his forehead, the lighthearted grin on his face, and his shirt clinging to every cut inch of him.

“You know what they say about paybacks, right?”

“Yes. That a gentleman like you would never retaliate on a poor, helpless female like me.” And then I shriek as another spurt of water hits me.

“Oopsie.” His laugh rings louder than mine. “Nice try, but you’ve made it clear you’re no damsel in distress, so that doesn’t fly with me, Princess.”

Crap.

And that’s the only thought I get to have before I’m hit full-on with a longer stream of water. “Stop. No. Grayson.”

I rush him. I try to yank the nozzle from his hands, and when I do, I throw it to the ground and run. Through the gate. Into the backyard. Around the flowerbeds.

I make the fatal error of thinking I can run past him on my way back to the front yard, and before I know it, Grayson hooks an arm around my waist, and we both fall laughing onto the grass.

The fall knocks the breath out of us, but within seconds, I’m wriggling to get away from him.

Then I’m not.

My body freezes, fully aware of every long, lean inch of his body flanking mine. Of that instant burn in my belly and ache in my thighs when I stop moving only to find his face in front of mine. His eyes on me. His lips inches away. His body wet and warm all at the same time. His dick hard and pressed against my thigh, telling me his thoughts align with mine.

“Grayson . . .” This is a bad idea.

Kiss me.

This is such a bad idea.

Why isn’t he kissing me?

And then he does. A soft brush of his lips against mine. And then another. Sips and sighs of a kiss as we lie on the ground in my backyard with the birds overhead and a lawnmower sounding off elsewhere . . . but my entire world is focused on him.

On the rough brush of stubble against my chin. On the drops of water falling off his hair and onto mine. On the softness of his lips, the flex of his muscles, and the hints of restraint being tested.