Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

Like now.

That grin.

Those deep, dark eyes.

They’re all for me.

I bring up my phone and type quickly, even though he is still typing.

Me: I’m staring at you.

His grin grows, and then his eyes meet mine. Heat rushes through me, and it takes my breath away. I curve my lips as I lean my head into the chair as if I’m trying to get comfortable and not staring at our winger. When my phone sounds, I look at it to see his message.

Boon: Jesus, Posey, you take my breath away.

My face breaks into a grin, and I sigh softly.

Me: I thought you’d say more, for as long as you were typing.

Boon: I was, but then I thought it would be highly inappropriate for me to talk dirty to you when you’re sitting behind your mom and sister.

Me: Highly inappropriate, huh?

Boon: Oh, lovely, they’re so inappropriate, the thoughts in my mind. I have to keep them contained.

I lick my lips and then bite my bottom one. He drives me wild. I’d always wanted to have sex, and I know I could have gone out and gotten it, but I’m glad I waited. I know I never saw Boon coming and didn’t plan to lose it to him, but it’s becoming an addiction.

I love how he makes love to me. I crave it. I want it. He leaves me trembling from just a kiss, and I know I sound like a love-sick child, but I like how he makes me feel. Special, important, and like I’m the only one he sees. It’s silly, but is it, really? Is it silly to crave a man’s touch when it makes you feel so good? Isn’t life about being happy? I give just as much as he does, so I shouldn’t feel silly for wanting him.

I should embrace it.

“Posey, which one?”

But apparently I can’t embrace it when my sister and mom are sitting in front of me. I look up just as my mom kneels on the seat, leaning over the back to look down at me. Shelli has the Wedding Book from Hell propped up on the back of the seat and open to the section that’s labeled: Maid of Honor. It’s my page. Yay. There are cutouts of models for hair, jewelry, and three dresses, but instead of the model’s faces, a picture of my face has replaced them.

It’s terrifying how obsessed my sister is with this book. I could never be like this. Give me a courthouse or an empty field with maybe ten people. That’s probably why my mom is so obsessed with Shelli’s wedding. She knows for a fact that I will not be this extreme.

I make a face. “Did you have to put my face on the models? My ass doesn’t look like that.”

“Focus, Posey. Which one?”

“Why are the colors pink and gray? Don’t you want something else? Go back to the teal and black.”

She glares as she chews glue from her fingers. “Pick a dress.”

“You know you can do that whole book on a tablet, right. Like, you wouldn’t need glue—”

“Posey, which dress!”

I groan, wanting to die. I look closer as my mom points to the last one. “I think you’d look incredible in this one. It’ll hug all those curves of yours, and look how it’ll show off your breasts.”

“That dress cannot contain these things,” I say, holding one boob in my hand, but I snap a picture anyway. “Let me get back to you. I’m gonna ask Ally.”

Shelli frowns. “Do you like them, though? ’Cause if not, I’m going to give Amelia a chance to pick.”

“I don’t know. The last one is nice, but the other two are too poofy. I’m not a poofy type of girl.”

Shelli pauses, tapping her finger to her lips. “You aren’t. Your curves are too good to hide. We’ll find something formfitting.”

“Yay,” I say dryly, and I don’t miss the look of pure agony from my mother. Nothing to be done about my sister and the Wedding Book from Hell.

I roll my eyes as I lean back, lifting my phone to see Boon has texted again.

Boon: What in the hell is that god-awful sparkly thing?

I laugh softly.

Me: Well, Boon, it’s the Wedding Book from Pure Hell. Shelli has been planning her wedding in the book since she was a child.

Boon: Oh. The amount of glitter is disturbing.

Me: This is true, but at least you don’t have a page dedicated to you in it.

Boon: You have a page?

Me: I do.

Boon: Are you in the wedding?

Me: I am. Hello, I’m the maid of honor.

Boon: Hm, I’m a groomsman. Maybe I can feel you up after the toasts?

Me: That could happen.

Boon: But first, I need to see this page.

I send him the photo I took, and when I hear him laugh, I roll my eyes. Jerk.

Boon: Wow. Is there one for me?