Page 11 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“Ohmygod.” I shake my head at my brazen brother, and Clay chuckles.

“Your choice,” Brindle announces.

“I don’t know what you’ll find hot, but I’ve got a few good ones,” Axsel says. “The Jerichos’ barn roof, a construction elevator, at a bonfire on a beach with three other guys, under the lights onstage before a concert.”

“Our barn roof?” Trace snaps.

“You’d be even more surprised if you knew who it was with,” Axsel said.

Trace frowns. “Do not tell me. I don’t want to think about you doing some dude on my roof.”

“I want to know,” Morgyn exclaims.

“Let it go,” Sable says, leaving no room for negotiation.

Sable has always been everyone’s greatest protector. I don’t know if she’s protecting Trace from finding out what he doesn’t want to know, or the guy Axsel was with, but Morgyn murmurs, “Fine.”

“Onstage, Axsel? In front of people?” Amber asks, wide-eyed.

I’m still trying to process the three other guys part.

Axsel’s brows knit in concentration. “I think there were a half dozen people milling about.”

As Axsel and the others discuss his varying trysts, Clay places his hand on my thigh, leaning closer, and says, “I can’t wait to hear your answer.”

“I am not answering that question,” I whisper harshly.

“Aw, come on, Pep. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

His charm is addicting. “I am not telling you anything.”

“I get it. You’re a bedroom-only girl. Probably vanilla, too. There’s no shame in that. It’s cool.”

“I am not vanilla. I’ve done things. I just don’t feel the need to broadcast them.”

“Mm-hm,” he says disbelievingly. “If you say so.”

“Oh my God. Fine,” I whisper harshly. “I’ll have you know that I’ve used syrup.”

He laughs. “Sounds sticky.”

“Chocolate syrup.” Now I’m laughing, too. “There was a lot of licking, and it was sticky, but it was fun.”

“Wait a second. You mean you went for sundaes, right? That almost counts. Sex. Sundaes. I can see the correlation.”

“We did not go for sundaes.” We’re both cracking up.

I swat him, but he grabs my hand, tugging me so close, our mouths nearly touch. We both fall silent, the air crackling between us. The others sound far away. He reaches up and caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers, sending heat scorching through me as he says, “I’d like to get my mouth on your sundae. Maybe add a little whipped cream.” He licks his lips. “Mm.”

I can barely breathe for the lust pooling inside me. I grab a shot and down it.

“You might want to slow down on the shots.” He moves the water he’d gotten me earlier closer. “I’d hate for you to wake up with a hangover.”

He’s been watching out for me like that all evening, making sure I’m staying hydrated, asking if I need anything. When I went to the ladies’ room, he insisted on walking me there. It’s easy to forget who he is when he does things like that. What isn’t easy to forget is that when I came out of the ladies’ room and found him waiting for me, it was just the two of us in the dimly lit hallway, and I wanted to kiss him so badly, I ached with it.

That ache still hasn’t left me.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”