Page 26 of The Sweet Spot

“Yes. You’re gripping it like—”

He looks away just as his jaw flexes. Then he looks back at me.

“My finger placement,” he says again slowly before he reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist, “is just fine, and I'm going to prove it to you right now.”

Without warning, he drags me into the passenger seat of the cart, then he stalks to the other side and gets in.

“JB—” I start.

“Alex! Graham!” he calls over his shoulder as he puts it in drive, and we’re already moving. “We’ll meet you on the fairway in a few minutes.”

“What are you — we can't just—” I twist to look back at the caddies, Jess and Max.

Not one of them is calling us to come back. In fact, I think Jess is dancing with excitement.

“Get it, girl!” she yells as we drive away.

“Are you kidding me?” I turn back to JB who is off the course, driving us to who knows where. “This is a tournament. You can't just drive off in the middle of a—”

“Yeah, well, I need a second with my partner before I lose my fucking mind.”

Just as I'm about to reply, we hit some bumps, making me need to grab the cart for stability.

We're moving down a service track now, between holes that I don't think is technically a designated cart path, but I doubt JB cares about that.

When he stops, we're so far out, we're hidden behind one of the large bushes where no one can see us. The only sound is the cart motor whirring and our labored breathing from yelling at each other.

“You blocked it,” I blurt, because apparently, I can't help myself. “Your finger placement on the right hand has been an issue since the fourth hole and if you'd just—”

I'm mid-sentence when he turns in the seat, cups my jaw and forces me to look at him. Then, all of a sudden, his lips are on mine—hot, frustrated, and demanding.

For half a second, I freeze.

He’s kissing me.

What the fuck?

All the noise in my head suddenly stops. Everything I was thinking about is gone because JB is kissing me like he’s been dying to shut me up all day. His thumb presses firmly under my jaw, holding me exactly where he wants me while his mouth claims mine.

Then his tongue swipes across my bottom lip and any semblance of resistance drops. I want this, too.

So good. He feels so good.

The second I clutch his polo to pull him closer, he growls into my mouth, and the noise sends a tingle straight down my spine.

He pushes me back into the seat, covering me with his body. My legs ride up to make space, nearly knocking the brake in the process. Our mouths are sealed together, our tongues tangled as we try to get as close to each other as possible.

“I thought you were mad at me,” I manage to ask against his lips.

When my back hits the seat, he pulls back just enough to say, “I am mad at you. You’ve been riding me about my grip since the first tee. Questioning my hands like I don’t catch fucking bullets for a living because you're wound up tighter than a string.” He doesn’t come back to my lips, instead he kisses down my jaw, and neck.

“This is a strange way to show it.” I close my eyes and tip my head back, enjoying the sensation of being touched like this by someone other than myself in a long time.

“Yeah, well, I need some positive energy, and you need to relax so you're going to let me take some of that stress off you, okay?”

“O-okay.” I nod, not entirely sure what I’m agreeing to, but I can’t seem to say no to JB’s fiery gaze.

His hand moves to the back of my head, and he slowly pulls me in, giving me enough time to register where this is going.