Page 14 of Playing Pretend

I’m going to kill him. I’ll plaster a pillow over his face and hold tight until he stops squirming.

“On that note…” Pete checks his watch. “I think we should move inside for dinner. We’re all here, and the earlier we eat, the more time we get to come back out here and drink on the company dime afterward.”

No.

I have to return to our suite. I need to set goddamn boundaries.

Pete backtracks toward the resort with a grin. “And I don’t need to remind anyone that the last one inside usually has to sit next to the boss and his wife. So make it snappy.”

“But I have to change first,” I say as everyone follows him. “Can’t you wait until I get back?”

“Who cares what you’re wearing?” Phillip mutters as he passes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Cassidy smiles. “You look great.”

“Yeah.” Rome steps in front of me, his hand taking liberties as it slides around my waist. “You look great.”

It’s another taunt. A strategy.

The delicious drawl. The dreamy bedroom eyes. The gentle touch.

“You’re an ass,” I say quietly and step away, only to have him grab my wrist with a chuckle.

“Hold up.” He pulls me into him, playfully gentle yet sinfully commanding. “You’re more relaxed.” He steps into me, bringing us foot to foot, the lights from the pool dancing in his eyes.

“Relaxed?” I scoff. “What brought you to that wildly inaccurate assumption?”

He raises his scotch, drains the liquid, then grabs my cocktail glass and leans to place them on the table by the closest sun lounger. When he straightens, both his hands glide over my hips, his palms warm against my jeans. “You no longer flinch when I touch you.”

I don’t?

“It’s the alcohol.” I hold his gaze, my chin high. This is just another ploy to get me riled before we’re in a more structured environment for our meal. “Let me assure you, I still disapprove of all the touching. It’s overkill.”

“I disagree. I actually think it’s time to lay more groundwork to this charade.”

“Nope.” I shake my head. Fast. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ve done more than enoughgroundworkfor one night.”

His smile kicks at one side, the hint of his left dimple showing. “You’re already tipsy.”

It’s not a question so I don’t respond. He’s seen me drunk enough times to know the initial signs and that cocktail definitely came with a kick.

“That’s not very professional of you, Ms. Sheffield.”

“Your taunting is easier to withstand while intoxicated, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“Is that so?” His palms slide farther around my hips, slowly creeping lower toward my backside.

I stare him down. My narrowed eyes to his cocky smirk. The warmth from the liquor works against me when paired with the sinful burn of his touch. I overheat, the pool of my belly volcanic.

“I’m immune to your proximity, too.” I lie.

“Impressive.” He cups my ass and roughly drags me closer

I gasp, my hands raising to press against his chest for stability.

“I love that sound,” he murmurs. “Scandalizing you does funny things to me.”

My heart bolts, the pained organ beating a frantic rhythm. “I’m not scandalized.” My breathy voice says otherwise. “I just didn’t expect you to manhandle me.”

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