Page 108 of The Mating Game
“Oh my God, you little rebel.”
“I haven’t even told you about my biker gang yet.”
She elbows me. “So then why are you carrying a phone that’s one step up from those eight-inch monstrosities with antennas?”
“It’s funny.” My chin tucks against her shoulder. “It had been years since I’d had that conversation with my dad, but when they died…it was the first thing I thought of. I guess…when you lose someone…you regret all the memories you didn’t get a chance to create. It just makes you reconsider all the things you used to think were important.”
“God.” She takes a deep breath, then blows it out loudly. “Now I feel like an asshole.”
“It’s okay,” I urge sweetly, rubbing her arm with my hand. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to make fun of my poor departed father’s imparted wisdom.”
She pulls away to wheel around and face me, her mouth hanging open as she slaps my shoulder, and I’m seconds away from bursting out laughing. “Oh my God! You can’t joke about that, you jerk.” She rearranges herself until she’s facing me with her knees on either side of my hips, my hands finding her waist to settle there as she crosses her arms. “Now who’s being diabolical?”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” I say with a smile.
She unwinds her arms so she can press her hands against my chest, sliding them across the flannel appreciatively as she lets out a deep hum that makes me squirm. Her hands push higher until her fingers graze my throat to tease at the curls clinging to my nape, then she breathes in deeply before releasing a satisfied sigh.
“I have to admit, it’s been…kind of nice,” she tells him. “Being unplugged like this.”
“Has it?”
“Mm-hmm.” She twirls one dark strand of my hair around her finger. “It helps that I’ve had a good distraction.”
“If I had my way, you’d be too distracted to ever turn that phone on again.”
“I can see the headlines now,” she chuckles. “ ‘Tess Covington Abducted by a Mountain Man, but She Isn’t That Mad About It.’ ”
“I’d be happy to abduct you anytime,” I tell her, meaning it despite my playful tone.
Her eyes are softening now, moving across my face slowly as if memorizing my features. I feel my pulse quicken when I reach one hand out to cup her jaw, my thumb stroking back and forth across her cheek as I study her. I remember thinking she was pretty when I first saw her, and knowing her hasn’t diminished that. Now that I understand she’s a little quirky and a lot wonderful, with her desire to help others and her love of silly songs, she’s fucking beautiful. It’s hard to even tear my eyes away from her.
“Now this would make a pretty picture,” I murmur.
She bites her lip. “You’re getting good at this flirting thing.”
“Who would have thought?”
“I bet the camera on your phone is terrible.”
“I’m not even really sure it works.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
I grin, leaning in to press my lips to hers in a slow, lazy way, as if only to test the softness of them. There is a tease of tongue and a trip of her breath as I raise my arm from where it was resting at her waist to circle around and pull her in tighter. I give a contented sort of rumble in my chest before I lean back to take in the dazed expression on her face now. One thatIput there. Her eyes are half-lidded and her lips are kiss-bitten, her face flushed with color.
My alpha is practically beating his chest at the sight.
“Beautiful,” I whisper.
I lean backward on a whim, bringing both of my hands in frontof my face to make a square shape with my fingers. Then I make a clicking sound with my mouth as I pretend to take a picture, watching her blink in surprise as she cocks her head.
Her face breaks out into a smile. “What was that?”
“A mental picture,” I tell her. “So I can remember.”
“Oh?” She presses a finger to one of the buttons of my shirt, tracing it lightly. “So this is something you definitely want to remember, huh?”
I look at her then—reallylook at her, at the way her freckles spray across her nose like lightly dusted sugar, the way her bangs perpetually hang into her eyes, giving them a sort of sultry quality, the way her nose is so petite that it wrinkles with almost every emotion that plays across her face—and, well…
