Page 80 of The Puckable Playbook

“I had a crush on Charlie.”

“Of course you did.”

“Especially in part two.”

“It’s knucklepuck time.”

I drop my head to his chest, body shaking as I hide a laugh. All the fears I had melt away in the blink of an eye. I cuddle next to him, and he places my arm across his stomach.

Maybe I should write an ode to abs. “Ladies, don’t settle for less. They aren’t the thing of fiction.”

Dear God.

The movie plays in the background, but I’m more invested in real life. Zaiah’s thumb on my hip, tracing my curves. My fingers flexing over his abs.

Before I know it, the movie is nearly finished, and I peer up to find Zaiah’s eyes closed, his chest rising and lowering rhythmically.

I raise my arm, staring down at him. The hem of his shirt has lifted, and I spot a peek of his toned stomach. Behind me, the ducks are going into a Flying V, and if I could tug his shorts down a little more, I could see Zaiah’s V too.

“You checking me out?” He stretches his hands over his head to yawn, his shirt sliding up.

He goes to pull it back down, but I stop him with a hand on his. “I want to see you.”

I tug on his shirt, and he sits up, tugging it over his head before reclining against the wall again. I walk my fingers up his chest, tracing the muscles of his pecs.

“This hardly seems fair.”

“You already got a peek of me,” I tease.

“But you were so far away.”

My stomach clenches as I try to pull bravery from somewhere. “A piece of clothing for a piece of clothing?”

“Like strip poker without the game?”

I nod.

“Good. Because I don’t want to play games with you.”

Does he always know the right things to say? He takes my hand from his stomach, kisses it, and rests it next to the hem of my tank. I finger the stitching. “You want me to do it?”

He gives me a short nod, staring at me. My fingers shake. I’ve never undressed for a guy.

I find confidence in his gaze, in the way he swallows while he waits with his eyes glued to me. My clumsy fingers grab the hem and lift, dragging it past my stomach and over my breasts until I drop it off the side of the bed.

“God,” he breathes.

I shut my eyes for a moment, clinging to my fading bravado. He’s not running away screaming, so that’s a good sign. I open them again, and his eyes are still on me, tracing me. I can almost feel his concentration like a physical touch.

I let him get his fill until I get antsy. “Pants?”

“Just pants?”

I nod slowly, watching as he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his joggers and yanks down, bringing his feet up to free his legs. I don’t watch them fall to the floor, my gaze honed on his bulge. He cups it, and I decide I’m a big fan of boxer briefs. They leave nothing to the imagination.

“Now you. Though it’s hardly fair. You’ve been teasing me with those skimpy shorts since you put them on.”

“A deal is a deal.” I lie back, shucking my monkey shorts off and returning to the same position I was in. Zaiah reaches out and tugs me close, my breasts pressing against his bare skin.

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