Dirty Princes (Hot Candy 3)

She rolls her eyes. “And?”

“And spill some on me.”

“You serious right now?” Her faux-whisper is more like a shout now.

“Yes. Splash me a bit, and I’ll back up until I crash into his machine. Then we will both pretend we didn’t notice him.”

Another eye roll, more exaggerated this time. “Are we back at school?”

I consider this. “Are we? God, I hope not!”

High school was terrible. I had braces and pimples and no boobs.

“Bry…”

“Just do it, okay? I have this whole thing planned. It will be perfect.”

With a small sigh, she starts unscrewing the lid off the bottle as I prepare myself mentally, calculating how many steps back I should take.

But I’m not prepared for the frigging geyser that hits me square in the eye, startling a tiny scream from me. The Sprite splatters down my front, soaking through my top and leggings, in an icy shocking wave.

Holy shit.

Involuntarily, I stumble backward until someone shouts a warning, and I stop, blinking sweet soft drink from my lashes.

I lick my lips. Ugh, I don’t even like Sprite. I’m a Coke baby, through and through.

I shake my fist at Candy. “Why did you do that?” I demand.

She looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

“I said splash me a little, not throw the bottle at me.”

“I didn’t throw the bottle! It’s the gas. Must be from when it fell inside the vending machine.”

Why didn’t I calculate this in my original plan parameters? Darn.

I’m standing there, dripping, still in shock, when I find a pair of green eyes on me. Ryan’s brows have shot up to his hairline.

Holy crapola. Seriously? Again?

“I didn’t see you,” I blurt out.

“I realize that.” He nods at my sticky, wet hand that’s resting on his machine.

Now why does that sound so dirty?

“Or your machine,” I say.

“Right.” There’s a sexy, amused smirk on his face as he takes in the mess that is my appearance, the appearance I worked so hard before coming to the gym to perfect. I bet my mascara is running down my cheeks.

“I just happen to like this gym. A lot. I hadn’t realized you were a member, too,” I go on, needing to emphasize my meaning.

“For the past two years, yes.”

“No way I could have known that. In any case, I’m not here for you.”

He dips his head and chuckles. God, that’s a rich chocolate sound. It trickles thickly over my senses. “Girl… you’re killing me.”