Page 62 of The Love Playbook

“Technically, it’s his last name, but so?” I cross my arms over my chest.

Chris tips his head back and laughs, a big rip-roaring belly laugh that makes me want to throat punch him.

I jab him in the gut instead, but it backfires. My knuckles bounce right off his abs like they’re made of steel. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Chris grins. “His name is pretty fucking funny. I mean, can you even picture introducing him to your father? ‘Dad, meet Danger. Danger, meet Dad.’”

“As opposed to you? ‘Oh Dad, meet Chris. Remember him?Your soon-to-be stepson.’”

Chris’s smile fades, and I stand a little taller.

“So, how exactly is he your type?” He nods to where Danger’s now talking with one of his friends. “Because I’m not seeing it.”

“He’s hot and athletic for one. Not to mention, a really decent guy.”

“Hello?” Chris motions toward himself, and I roll my eyes. As much as I want to crack a joke about him not being decent, I can’t. Everything I know about Chris Collins tells me he’s actually a ridiculously good guy.

“What sport does he play? Golf?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“You know damn well what sport he plays if you’re at this party.” I scoff. But Chris just stands there, his expression expectant. “Soccer. He plays soccer,” I say, even though I know it’s a trap.

“Soccer?” He snickers. “You want a dude who kicks a ball down the fucking field with his feet?”

I guffaw. “Versus cradling one in his arms?”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Football is the most macho, harshest contact sport there is with the exception of maybe rugby, which we don’t even have in the States.”

I grin, lifting a hand and inspecting my nails, then buff them against my shirt. “All I know is I have every intention of seeing if he lives up to his name”?I lift my gaze to him?“inotherways.”

Red blooms in the apples of his cheeks as the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Okay, fine.” His eyes flash with something dangerous as prowls toward me until I’m pressed against the wall.

One long, muscled arm rises above my head while the other braces against the wall at my side, caging me in. His head dips, perilously close to mine. “Tell me with a straight face that you find Soccer Guy sexier than me,” he says, his deep voice rumbling beneath the surface of my skin, “and I swear to god, Lettie, I’ll leave you alone.”

My heart pounds against my chest, a restless war drum summoning soldiers into battle as my gaze drops to his mouth, and he grins.

Wrong move.

Shit. I’m losing control of the situation, my battle for the upper hand.

I try for a laugh, but it comes out strangled. “I don’t find you sexy at all.”

I meet his icy gaze, and he laughs. “Bullshit.”

One corner of my mouth tips. “I said what I said, Collins, and I meant it.”

“So, if I did this . . .” He slides his fingers up my neck and over the curve of my jaw, finding my mouth and dragging the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “Or this . . .” He leans down, brushing the softest of kisses over the corner of my mouth while my heart riots. “Or this . . .” He nips playfully at my lower lip, and I nearly gasp. “You’d say it has zero effect on you? None, whatsoever?”

The breath wheezes in and out of my lungs, a worn-out engine struggling to keep up.

My back straightens like a steel rod as I try and ground myself. “Nope. None,” I say, voice shaking.

His lips quirk, eyes glittering like sunshine rippling over the surface of a lake. A sound of disbelief rumbles in the back of his throat while his gaze is focused on my mouth once more. “Really? No effect at all?” he asks.

The blood in my veins hum, the muscle in the center of my chest struggling with the demand to keep up. But I’m nothing if not stubborn, so I square my shoulders and force my voice to remain steady when I say, “Like I said, I felt nothing. Face it, Collins,” I sneer, “you have zero effect on me. Maybe when you learn how to kiss, you can?”

Chris’s mouth crashes into mine, his lips hot and insistent, needy and demanding, as he coaxes my mouth apart and swallows my gasp.

With a press of his hips to my stomach and a brush of the tongue, my knees go weak.

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