Page 42 of Own the Eights
He gestured to the plates. “Thanks for dinner and the…”
And what? The fucking fantastic sex?
“The stress relief,” she supplied.
He nodded. “Right, it was very…effective.”
Dammit! Now he really did sound like the Emperor of Asshattery.
“We’ll talk soon. We can start your race training,” he added.
She chewed her lip. “Sure, it’s a date. Well, not a date. It’s an appointment.”
He took a step toward her. What was he supposed to do? Give her a kiss on the cheek? The lips? A hug? But before he could decide on the right way to say goodbye to his competition, who also happened to be the best sex he’d ever had, Georgie thrust out her hand.
A handshake. How awkwardly perfect. But entirely fitting for how they had to behave from this point on. No more kissing demonstrations or Kama Sutra stress relief.
He left the bungalow and closed the door on not only Georgie and her shelves of books and her killer body, but a world where she could be his.
“You play to win. That’s what Deacon would do,” he whispered into the night air without even a backward glance.
7
Georgie
“Are you telling us that, two days ago, you kind-of-accidentally-sort-of slept with Jordan Marks?”
Georgie cringed at hearing Becca repeat her admission and placed a tray of vegan chocolate chip cookies on the bookshop’s counter. Becca took one then handed another to her sister, Irene, who’d stopped by to say hello. It was good to see her. Now that she was married to her eight and was not only bartending but also managing the Tennyson Bistro, they didn’t see each other as much as they’d used to when she’d first opened the shop.
Georgie glanced between the Murphy sisters. If she were being honest, it was more like she’d ridden Jordan Marks like a Kama Sutra cowgirl while the two of them had harnessed enough orgasmic energy to power the city for a week, maybe even a month.
But she didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—especially since it could never, ever, ever happen again.
Ever.
Ever, ever.
“Yes, I accidentally slept with him. But we only did it to relieve the stress brought on by the competition. There’s science and shit about it,” she answered, then crammed an entire cookie into her mouth.
“Whoa, Nellie!” Irene said, grimacing at her vegan debauchery. “Go easy on that cookie. It’s not Jordan Marks’ cock!”
Becca pressed her hand to her lips and stifled a laugh.
Georgie took a giant gulp of water to wash down the treat. “You guys, it’s not funny.”
“It kind of is. I mean, how often do you hear about women accidentally falling onto a guy’s dick?” Irene replied, biting back a grin.
“And, kind of sort of having your brain scrambled by crazy hot sex,” Becca added.
Georgie wiped a crumb from her lip then gasped. “I didn’t mention anything about it being crazy hot.”
“Georgie, you walked around this bookstore smiling like an idiot and handing out cookies like a girl scout on crack.”
“They’re vegan!” she huffed. She shouldn’t have even mentioned her stress relief session with Jordan.
“It’s okay if you like him, Georgie,” Irene said and swiped another cookie.
Georgie blew out a frustrated breath. “Actually, it isn’t. He’s my competition.”
