Page 63 of Forgotten Comeback
“Hey, now, don’t forget about Philly,” he jokes.
I wad up my napkin and throw it at his face.
Chuckling, he easily dodges. “Figured we’d talk about body count.” He reaches into his back pocket, handing me papers folded in half.
“What’s this?” I ask, unfolding them.
“Blood work from my fight physical; all clear.”
My eyes wide, I ask, “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because I plan on fucking you bare.” His voice is a cocky caress down my spine.
“Are you now?” I feign boredom, ignoring the blast of heat between my legs.
“Yeah, I am,” he says confidently.
Somehow, we’ve scooted closer, only inches separating us. “Gavin, you’re a walking red flag.”
“I think red’s your color.” The gold rings around his eyes spark with mischief as he tucks a strand of my wet hair behind my ears.
“And once you fuck me, the game’s over, and you win,” I whisper, more to remind myself. Because that’s exactly how it’ll go down.
Gavin’s eyes flicker with emotion. “What if our game doesn’t have to end?”
“Meaning?” Butterflies take flight in my stomach for reasons unknown.
“I want you to be my girl.” He looks as surprised by his own declaration as I am.
“Have you ever been in an exclusive relationship?” I ask, having to pick my jaw up from the carpet to do so.
He lifts a shoulder. “First time for everything.”
“How many girls are you texting?”
He grabs his phone from his back pocket, his thumbs flying over the keyboard. “Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Block. Block. Block. Block?—”
“That many deletes and blocks aren’t helping your case,” I say dryly.
“I’m texting one girl: you.”
I toss his medical records on the table, ignoring the way my pulse has quickened. “So you want me to be your trial run? Your beta girlfriend?”
He smirks, pocketing his phone. “You’re not going to be myalphagirlfriend, but we can jockey over that position later. Right now, I’m trying to get over you. Under you. Behind you. How do you want it our first time?”
His cockiness is beyond off-putting, and yet my ovaries won’t stay the hell out of this. Armoring up against his seductive words, I say, “Why pretend to want a relationship just to fuck me? That seems twisted, even for you.”
Gavin grabs my chin, jerking me inches from his face. “You don’t get to tell me what I want.” His words ring with sincerity, but my brain’s telling me not to be a fucking idiot.
The trance is broken with the ring of my doorbell.
“You expecting company?” Gavin asks, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb.
“No,” I murmur, my mind and my body at war with one another.
My mind says this is a bad fucking idea.
My body says, Mmm, yeah, it is.
