Page 3 of You Owe Me

Fuck me.

“Fine,” I growl. “Open your mouth… please.”

With a look of victory, she opens her lips, and I slide two fingers in, letting her tongue do naughty things.

“Enough.” I can’t let her cloud my judgment more than she already has. I’ll end up fucking her on this field.

Removing my wet fingers from her mouth, I reach down and rub them through the dirt.

She holds up the cards one at a time as I scrawl IOU on each one.

And then someone whistles.

Loud. Obnoxious. Mood-ruining.

“Timeout for inappropriate display of affection!” Sebastian yells. “That’s the third time this month! New rule: Lexington and James are banned from opposing teams!”

“Or banned entirely,” Eliza mutters. “Some of us are just trying to enjoy a wholesome, beer-soaked sporting event without watching you two dry hump in the infield. And I still have to study with her later!”

Ainsley doesn’t move. Not an inch. She’s still on top of me, all curves and smugness and bedroom eyes. Her smile turns wicked, her voice low and teasing as she leans in like she’s about to drop some dangerous secret.

“Your heart rate’s elevated,” she whispers against my jaw, breath warm and smug as hell. “Is it the non-alcoholic beer or me?”

“Definitely not the beer.”

She knows that, but before I can punish her for it, Sebastian leans over us and yells. “Game over due to excessive PDA and violation of kickball etiquette!”

“Thank fuck.” I was tired of this game before we started. Ainsley and her damn stress-relieving activities…

Ainsley rolls off me and offers me her hand like she’s not the one who tackled me like an NFL linebacker in yoga pants. I stare at her outstretched palm for a second. It’s weirdly sweet and almost makes me laugh. Almost.

Fuck it. I’ll play along.

I take her hand, and she yanks me up like she’s trying to prove a point. She’s got surprising strength for someone who can’t open a pickle jar without calling in reinforcements.

“Next time, Lexington,” she says, loud enough for half the field to hear, “try to keep your hands to yourself. Some of us are here to win.”

Later that night, I find Ainsley on the balcony, curled up in a chair, barefoot, wild-haired, drowning in textbooks and marine biology notes.

“Did Sebastian suck again?” She doesn’t look up from her books.

Chuckling, I drop my bag by the door and head to the fridge. “Of course. He’ll never beat me in a poker game.” I pull out a beer and toss the unlit cigarette behind my ear onto the counter.

“Figured as much since you weren’t gone for very long.”

I drop into the chair across from her and crack open my beer, automatically tipping it to the side. The amber stream splashes down on the balcony below, but no one is out there.

“You know, that’s technically assault.” Glancing up, her mouth curves in amusement.

“They deserve it. Nobody should be allowed to karaoke Nickelback at 3 a.m. and go unpunished.” I shrug. “We could easily argue emotional distress. That ‘Photograph’ cover was a crime against humanity.”

She snorts. “You need to stop. It wasn’tthatbad.”

It was, but I’m too tired to argue with her. “How’s the project coming?” I nod toward the mess of notes on her lap.

“Drowning in sea lion cortisol data.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I swear, if Dr. Winters sends one more passive-aggressive email, I’m going to smother myself with Lawrence.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky Lawrence hasn’t ended up in the fire pit.” That stuffed monstrosity sees more nakedness than I do.

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