Samantha and Teri, my friends from the team, choose this compromised moment to walk up.
“You didn’t tell me Tyler was visiting,” Samantha gushes.
I shove away from Bo harder than necessary because he chooses that moment to let go. Once more, I’m off-balance. Lightning fast, his hand shoots out to catch my elbow and steady me.
“Oh, ah—” I stutter.
“This is Tyler?” Teri asks with delight, sticking her hand out for him to shake. Both my teammates ogle Bo, which is understandable, but they have it all wrong. “It’s so nice to finally meet the long-distance boyfriend! We’ve heard all about you. You flew out to take her to Homecoming?”
I’m usually quick with lies or coverups, but for some reason, this whole scene throws me off my game. Their assumption that Bo is the boyfriend I made up to keep things simple makes my cheeks get hot and prickly.
I wait for his firm rejection, but before I even know what’s happening, Bo bands an arm around my waist from behind and pulls me sharply back against his hard body. There’s aggression in the movement. Like he’s pissed about something. That I have a boyfriend?
“Of course, I flew out for Homecoming,” he purrs in my ear, the mocking in his voice making me blush hotter. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Teri says, eyeing Bo appreciatively. “You two are going to look great.”
Samantha looks at me. “Was it a surprise visit? I thought you said you couldn’t go.”
Bo strokes my side and nuzzles at my neck. “Yep. I surprised her. And I can’t wait to take her to the dance.” His lips brush my ear.
I hate him. I had one second there to declare he’s not Tyler, and I missed it. Maybe I was distracted by how strong his arm felt around me. Or his clean, masculine scent. Or pretending, just for a moment, that he was my imaginary boyfriend.
But now I’m screwed.
Because his hands are all over me, and he’s purposely torturing me. There’s an element of mockery that runs through every word he says. Like the idea of being my boyfriend is so stupid and ridiculous and he’s milking the moment for as long as possible.
Until he delivers some evil punchline.
Or shoves me away.
Or gets me all hot and bothered and laughs about his power over me.
Because the power is affecting my body like a potent drug. Heat tingles everywhere he touches. My pussy clenches. I elbow him in the ribs to free myself, but he tickles me like this is one of our games.
“Stop it,” I squirm away from him, pissed he’s making me smile against my will. Tickling should be outlawed in every country.
“Hey, it was nice to meet you two,” Bo says, lacing his fingers firmly through mine and tugging me toward the parking lot.
I stop and try to pull my hand away. “My stuff’s still inside,” I say.
“Oh, okay.” He frees me but crosses his arms over his massive chest. “I’ll wait.”
“No, really.” I fake a smile. “Go on home. I have my bike here, and I have to ride it.”
“Okay,” he says in a if-you-say-so tone. “I’ll see you at home, then.” He pumps his eyebrows. It’s damn sexy, even though it makes me want to throat punch him.
My fake smile gets more brittle. “Bye, then.”
He lifts his fingers and waves like a little girl. “Bye, sugarpie.”
I roll my eyes as I turn away. “He’s being an idiot,” I tell Samantha and Teri. “He doesn’t call me sugarpie.”
He doesn’t call me anything.
Unless Legs or princess counts, but they are far less terms of endearment than monikers to demean me.
Sugarpie.
What an asshole. I seriously could slap him silly.
Bo
I don’t know who the fuck Tyler is, but the alpha in me wants to rip him apart. After I outperform him in every arena possible.
As if humans could even compete with our shifter games. It would be dating games, then. The need to prove he’s inferior to me in every way courses through my body as I stride to the Triumph and swing my leg over the seat.
Fucking human boyfriend.
I’ll bet he’s a shitty kisser.
Twenty bucks she’s never even come with him. I don’t know what the stats are, but I think it’s hard to make a human girl orgasm during sex. I forget where I heard that—Coach, maybe. I think he was telling us with the advice to spend time trying to solve that puzzle. Make sure she gets off every time you do.
I kick my motorcycle to life and ride in the direction of Sloane’s house, stopping at In-N-Out Burger to wolf down three burgers and two orders of french fries. When I get to her townhouse, I park the bike up the street a ways and walk back, sticking to the shadows. Night has fallen, and the full moon of last weekend is waning. At least I’m not fighting that edge with the human.