Tomboy

His eyes went wide. “You think I’d cheat o

n you?”

Yeah, the idea of that turned the very good Irish whisky in her stomach into battery acid. “No, but I think there would be comparisons, and I’d be found lacking.” She rubbed her stomach, trying to make the ache and the sense of loss go away. “I’m not getting a makeover to fit better into your world.”

“Did I ask you to?” he whisper-shouted.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good, because I’d hate for us to be confused on that point. A makeover is the last thing in the world you need. Those assholes on social media don’t have a fucking clue what they’re talking about.” He closed the distance between them again, his hands resting on her jean-clad hips. “However, I will say the skirt thing is kind of a bummer. It’s not about how it would look—although I love your legs—but for efficiency. It would be so much easier to touch you right now and show my appreciation for just how fucking hot you are if you were in a skirt.”

And BAM! her entire perspective about skirts changed.

“My whole family is just on the other side of that overgrown potted plant.” Did that sound like a regretful whine to him? That’s sure as hell what it sounded like to her own ears.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” he said, looking at her as if she was anything but—at least when it came to keeping her clothes on. “But don’t think I’m fooled by that BS you just threw my way. That was a deke.”

Damn. She should have known better. “I’m not trying to use a fake move to throw you off.”

“I think you are, and here’s why. We’ve been thinking about this whole thing all wrong.” His grip on her hips tightened, and he lowered his face close to hers. “Today wasn’t our first date, it was just our latest.”

“Were the others so exciting that I totally forgot about them already?” she asked, desperate to hold on to her sanity before she jumped him in the hallway of her parents’ house.

“Smart-ass.” He gave her a kiss, sliding his lips across hers and twisting his tongue around hers in a quick, ruthless tease meant to tune her up without giving her any way to get off. “We’ve been dating for weeks, but we were both too chicken to call it that.”

It was hard to form any kind of argument when such a delicious ache had started in her core, making her breath catch and her heart race. Desire, hot and demanding, had her burning with want. Wearing a skirt suddenly seemed like, not a good idea, but the best idea ever. All she wanted was to feel him against her, easing that sense of need making her wet.

“You’re reading too much into it.” Her hungry gaze dropped to his hard cock pressing against his jeans. She licked her lips, imagining how good it would be if they were somewhere else and she could just slip down to her knees and take him deep in her mouth. But they weren’t, and she couldn’t, so she forced herself to keep going. “I was just acting like your Lady Luck so you could give yourself permission to love the game again and play it like you know you can.”

He lifted a pierced eyebrow. “Wrong again.”

“I’m never wrong.”

Zach was looking at her as if he’d figured out how to make her come just by glancing her way. The expression on his face should have been illegal. It probably was.

“You are wrong.” He pulled her close, his cock pressing against her stomach, and lowered his voice, made gravelly with want. “Because the woman who came all over my dick the other day wasn’t doing it so I could score a goal. She was doing it because she likes me as much as I like her.” He rocked against her. “And I like her a lot, more than I probably should.”

That sizzle in her head? It was the sound of the last threads of her resistance getting fried like a moth in a bug zapper. She liked this man, more than liked him really, and what kind of chickenshit wimp was she if she didn’t at least go for it?

A loud rustling sounded from the Philodendron, enough noise that she couldn’t help but look over in that direction. There was nothing there but the huge plant; however, her sister Fiona’s loud whisper came from the other side.

“You two have about three seconds before Mom figures out where you snuck off to, so pull it together.”

Fallon moved to put some space between them before they got busted, but Zach wasn’t going anywhere. The man had an advantage right now, and he knew it. Really, she’d be disappointed if he didn’t press it.

“Admit it,” he said. “You’re #TeamZuck.”

Was she currently the same temperature of the sun because she was so turned on or because her mom was going to discover them at any second? Both, definitely both. “Let’s just get through this party and then we can talk about it later.”

He gave her a quick kiss. “I’m holding you to that.”

He took a step back just as her mom rounded the massive houseplant.

“There you are. Come on,” Kate said, giving them a narrow-eyed you’re-not-fooling-anyone look. “Your brother wants to toast his soon-to-be-bride.”

They followed behind her mom, holding hands and no doubt both giving off guilty-as-hell vibes. It didn’t matter, though: all eyes were on the happy couple at the front of the room while all Fallon could do was think about how quickly she could get Zach away from here and them both out of their clothes.

Chapter Twenty