Page 42 of The Problem with Princes
He drops my hand and waves toward himself. “Bring it on, babe.”
My mouth drops open again but for an entirely different reason. My eyes widen. “You didnotjust call me babe.” I pinch my mouth into a tight line.
“Woah,” he holds his hands out in front of him as he takes several steps away from me. “I take it you don’t appreciate the term?”
I move forward, trying to look as menacing as possible. Flicking my hand forward, I send a spray of water toward him. “What gave you that idea?”
He puts his hands up, but the football blocks most of the water from hitting him in the face. He snickers, moving away from me slightly quicker now. “What you meant to say earlier is that you aren’t a crazystalker, but just crazy in general? Because normal people do not get mad over a cute pet name likebabe.”
I lunge forward and he drops the football and grabs my wrists. He moves with me as I try to pull them away. His grasp isn’t tight but is still unyielding.
“Babe is not a cute pet name. Kitten or sweetheart are cute pet names.” I guffaw. “Even chickie is better than babe.”
He manages to tuck both of our hands behind my back, bringing me tight against his body. My breath stutters as his chest comes to my eye level. It isn’t smooth, but instead is covered with just the right amount of sexy hair. It’s rather spectacular from my vantage point.
“Then I can call you kitten?” He whispers in my ear.
“Not if you want to live.” I laugh in mockery. “I’m deathly allergic to cats.”
He stares down at me all squinty eyed and he looks so adorable I relax slightly.
His grip loosens. He looks as if he can see right through me. “Then what am I supposed to call you? You said it’s too soon for Gee. And Gee isn’t really a pet name anyway.”
I lift a shoulder. “Shouldn’t pet names have some meaning? Like they come from something we share together?”
“How about coffee?”
I tilt my head and give him an exasperated look. “A good experience.” I say, my indignation coming through.
“I guess that means I need to spend more time with you.” His grip slackens and he stares down at me like he wants to kiss me. I know I shouldn’t want it, it’s a terrible idea. But I do. I want it so bad it almost hurts.We can be friends with benefits, right?
He bends his head and I close my eyes. It’s going to happen. He pauses, just before meeting my lips, as if he is asking for permission. I push up on my tiptoes and his lips connect with mine.
I have only three words that come to my mind. Oh. My. Heck.
Every reason fornotkissing him flees from my brain. And all I can think of is how good his lips feel on mine.
He releases my hands and wraps his arms around my waist, bringing me closer to him and deepening the kiss. The saltiness of the water only intensifies the sweetness of the lemonade I can taste on his lips. They are soft and warm. He obviously knows what he is doing as his lips leave mine and move to my jawline.
I’ve never felt a kiss like this. My toes curl into the sand, trying to keep me upright.
The noise of an engine brings me to my senses, and I pull away, taking several steps back and drawing my upper lip into my teeth. What have I done?
I look out into the water, but I don’t see any boats. Maybe I just imagined the engine.
He looks at me and where I expect to see confidence and triumph, there is only concern and vulnerability.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed…” He takes a step forward with his hand raised but stops mid-stride.
I swallow and try to take a calming breath. My muscles and nerves seem to be in a hurdles race, jumping about inside me. I give a little laugh. “No worries. You’re good.” I stop, realizing how it sounds. “I mean, I don’t mean that your kiss was good…” I stammer. “Not that it wasn’t good. It was—” I bite my lip to keep me from embarrassing myself even more.
A grin quirks up one side of his mouth. “Thanks, I think?” He plucks up the football and tosses it to me. I easily catch it, even though my hands still shake and throw it back to him. Both of us back up several steps, putting some much-needed distance between us.
ChapterFourteen
We tossthe ball around for more than an hour, until finally my legs scream with the exertion of running through the water. So much for allowing them to relax today.
Tyrone wades toward me. “You look tired. Should we head back and have something to eat?”
