Page 67 of Bitter When He Begs

He finally looks back at me, cheeks bright pink. “You were. Youare.You’re doing it right now.”

I bite down on my smile and lean in a little. “And what if I told you I couldn’t help it?”

He makes a sound—half flustered, half annoyed—and turns his face to the side, but I can still see the pink blooming along his throat, creeping up under the collar of that tank top.

Jesus. I used to be fluent in casual flirtation, but this kid ruins me.

“Well, stop it,” he says, quieter now. “You’re making it weird.”

“Nah,” I smirk. “I’m making it interesting.”

He glares, but it’s weak. “You’re such a cocky—”

“Gorgeous, sexy, handsome,” I interrupt. “Go on.”

Sage lets out this strangled sound and lifts up his glasses to cover his face with both hands. “Oh my God, you’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you came over here anyway.”

“I regret it already,” he says through his hands.

I chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

He peeks at me between his fingers, and I swear to God, my heart skips again. Those big brown eyes blinking up at me, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. He’s so goddamn cute it should be illegal.

“I should regret it,” he mutters, hands dropping to his sides. “You’re like… peak high school jock fantasy levels of infuriating.”

“I was homeschooled, actually,” I deadpan.

He blinks. “Wait, seriously?”

“No. But I had you for a second.”

His mouth drops open and he hits me in the arm, which does nothing because he’s small and dramatic, and I’m way too used to football tackles to feel that.

And now that I know how easily I can get to him? Yeah, there’s no chance in hell I’m stopping. I tilt my head, still watching him, my smirk growing. “Didn’t know you were so shy, Sunshine.”

Sage groans louder, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

“Mm.” I make a show of dragging my eyes down his body again before flicking them back up to his face. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He glares at me, the color still high on his cheeks. “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“Stop what?” I interrupt smoothly, quirking a brow. “Paying you a compliment? Flirting with you?” I grin, licking my lips just to mess with him. “Or just looking?”

Sage makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, and before I can push him further, he covers his face again, muttering, “You’re the worst.”

I chuckle, taking a sip of my water. “I really don’t think I am.”

He groans again, shaking his head like he’s so fucking done with me, but he doesn’t leave, and that’s the part that gets me. Because for all his complaints, all his protests, all his flustered little reactions—he’s still standing here.

With me.

Talking to me.

Letting me do this to him.

And fuck—that does something to my head, to my chest, and my whole fucking body.

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