Page 29 of Matched

“No, my first mistake was touching your dick.”

“Try again.”

“Fine.” In a move I was sure any martial artist would be proud of, I jackknifed my body up and threw myself onto Nate, straddling his thighs. My right hand went for his left pocket, but he was too quick for me, gripping my wrist and holding it in place.

“Nice try.” His free hand landed on my thigh. Why the fuck was he touching my thigh? I flexed the muscle beneath his palm, and he squeezed lightly. “I see what Renée meant about your thighs,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“W-what? Who’s Renée?”

He didn’t reply, focused on squeezing my muscle—and what the fuck was that all about, and why did I like it?—and I took advantage of his distraction to shift my body just enough to reach across with my left hand and get my fingers into his pocket. The tip of my index finger brushed against metal, warm from his body heat.

Then his fingers dipped under the hem of my shorts, pressing down on my skin, and I couldn’t stifle the gasp that tore from my throat.

We both froze, our gazes connecting through the barrier of our sunglasses. I couldn’t see Nate’s eyes, but his lips were parted, and his cheeks were flushing a deep red beneath his tan. I didn’t know what my face was doing, but I was sure it couldn’t be anything good, based on the way my heart was racing.

And my dick. My stupid, traitorous dick decided it very much liked what was happening. Fuck.

That was enough to shock me into movement.

I tore myself away from Nate, throwing myself down onto the grass and rolling. I heard Nate groan, and when I risked a glanceat him, his arm was thrown over his face, and he was muttering something to himself.

Somehow, the fact that he seemed just as unnerved as I was calmed me slightly. After taking several deep, slow breaths, I pulled my body upright. My gaze flicked to Nate again, and I didn’t do it on purpose…but my eyes went to his shorts. Or specifically to the place where there was a visible bulge. I swallowed hard, willing my dick to behave. It was fucking impossible, though, with Nate right there, all sweaty and lickable with his glistening muscles and?—

What thefuck. What the actual fucking fuck.

Enough was enough.

I cleared my throat and climbed to my feet, turning away from Nate. Pacing up and down, I thought fast.Bike. Yeah. That should work. I jogged over to my bike and picked up my T-shirt, pulling it back over my head. After straightening my sunglasses, I pulled the bike upright and swung my leg over. Pedalling slowly, I made a circle around the tree, and by the time I was back in my original starting position, my dick was under control. Nate was now standing with his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts. He’d twisted his cap around and pulled it down low, the brim throwing his face into shadow.

Stopping my bike, I cocked my head. “It looks like I failed as a career criminal. Wanna have a bike race instead?” Thank fuck my voice came out more or less normal, and it seemed as if it was enough to convince Nate, because the corners of his mouth turned up into a tiny smile, and he began making his way towards me. When he reached our bikes, he pulled on his own T-shirt, and after grabbing his stuff, he climbed on his bike and turned to me.

“First one to the ice cream van by the fountains wins.”

Then the cheating bastard cycled away at high speed before his words had even registered in my head.

Swearing under my breath, I raced after him, drawing closer but never catching up.

“Cheat!” I shouted, and I heard him laugh, but he didn’t slow down.

The ice cream van came into view, and I pedalled harder, putting on a burst of speed, and by some miracle, I managed to draw level with his back wheel when he had to swerve around a dog that had appeared out of nowhere. But when we both skidded to a stop on the path in front of the ice cream van, Nate was still slightly ahead.

“Yes! I won!” he shouted, fist pumping the air, and I shook my head at him.

“It doesn’t count as a win if you cheated.”

He smirked at me. “Sounds like the words of a loser.”

I discreetly gave him the middle finger—discreetly, because there were children around—and he laughed again.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s leave our bikes over there, and I’ll buy you an ice cream to make up for your loss.”

When we’d left our bikes safely locked up and were walking along the path next to the sparkling water of the Serpentine with our ice cream cones in hand, I realised what a bad idea this had been.

Because the way Nate ate that ice cream was fucking pornographic. It seemed like now I’d noticed him in a certain way, my body was reacting toeverythinghe did, and I was honestly at a loss. I’d never been in this kind of situation before.

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Huh?” Nate glanced over at me before swiping his tongue over the top of his ice cream.

---