Page 22
Story: Ms. Temptation
Ty, soulful and serious. Much too serious for trivia.
“You up?” he asked gruffly, tilting his head toward the other room and Pete.
I nodded, ruthlessly trying to suppress the tingles his fingers left in their wake. Of course, he’d released me as soon as I stopped. Like I had cooties. Stupid, alcohol-induced, likely to hit on him again, cooties. I held back my grimace, hoping I wouldn’t flush and give away my residual embarrassment.
Why was he stopping me now? Was he hoping to rattle me? Keep us from winning?
My eyes narrowed, and I blurted out the accusation before I could think better of it. “You wouldn’t be trying to sex me into surrender with those bedroom eyes, would you, Ty? Because it just might work.”
Subtlety. Finesse.
Two words never used to describe me.
In the heat of the moment, I lost any grasp on either. Maybe this is why I hadn’t gotten the promotion to management at work. Too impetuous?
“I was trying to say good luck,” Ty grumbled, his expression chagrined.
“I only take good luck kisses,” I answered airily, trying to hide my discomfort at being called out by pretending it was all a game. Teasing him restored some of my confidence. He’d never pick up on the implied dare.
Ty appeared momentarily stricken, before determination washed over his features. The competitive light in his eyes made my heart race. He hooked a finger in the waist of my jeans, tugging me up against his hard body, there in the hall, in front of bar patrons and any stray team members exiting the bathroom. I half expected someone to stop and yell “traitor” at us. Instead, I remained mesmerized by his dark gaze as he brushed a lock of hair away from my face, watching me steadily.
“I can do that too,” he said huskily.
He could do what now? I’d totally lost my train of thought. Win? Of course, he could. His team was tough to beat. Any lingering brain cells quit firing as he loomed closer, using the hand that had touched my cheek to tip my chin up.
He brushed a quick kiss across my lips, pausing to smile when I didn’t respond, too stunned by the action.
“Good luck,” he whispered, pulling away.
As tactics went, it was dirty. He knew I found him attractive. I didn’t ask just anyone to take me home. My crush on Ty had grown from schoolgirl fantasies to something deeper and darker over time. But two could play at the distraction game. If he wanted to toy with my emotions, tease me, then I would give as good as I got.
With interest.
I reached for his broad shoulders, enjoying their strength beneath his soft shirt, using my leverage to push him back toward the wood-paneled wall. I stepped closer, bringing my hips into his and stood on my tiptoes, pausing a beat to gauge his reaction. The light of challenge in his eyes sealed the deal.
I leaned into Ty, sipping at his lips.
If he wanted to use seduction against me, I at least wanted to get my money’s worth. Fantasies of Ty had kept me warm for months, but I needed some all-new material.
He tasted faintly of beer, and I traced the seam of his lips before he opened with a groan, returning my kiss stroke for stroke.
Hot and sweet, the soft caress sent tingles to all my best places. Our lips and tongues tangled, fighting for supremacy. Losing all sense of time, I only pulled away when I couldn’t breathe.
We stood panting, staring at each other. At some point in the madness, I’d pushed his baseball hat off, running my hands through his dark hair. The longish strands stood up in places, hopelessly mussed. Ty’s heavy-lidded gaze gave me a small sense of satisfaction. Sure, my panties may be damp, the growing pressure between my thighs making me needy, but I wasn’t the only one affected.
Ty acted like he wanted me too.
But was it an act?
Ty gaze landed on something over my shoulder and he stiffened, pushing me away from the heat of his body, his expression collapsing into one of studied politeness.
“Good luck, Andi,” he rumbled softly, before slipping away toward the trivia tables.
I stood alone in the hall, trying to catch my breath. Blind to everything but my raging hormones. Ty’s kiss hadn’t felt like disinterest. Had I misread the situation? Misread him?
“You consorting with the enemy, Andi?”
Startled, I shook my head, as much to recall myself to the present as to answer, and turned to face my brother. Jimmy appeared deceptively casual, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, as he gave me a knowing look.
“You up?” he asked gruffly, tilting his head toward the other room and Pete.
I nodded, ruthlessly trying to suppress the tingles his fingers left in their wake. Of course, he’d released me as soon as I stopped. Like I had cooties. Stupid, alcohol-induced, likely to hit on him again, cooties. I held back my grimace, hoping I wouldn’t flush and give away my residual embarrassment.
Why was he stopping me now? Was he hoping to rattle me? Keep us from winning?
My eyes narrowed, and I blurted out the accusation before I could think better of it. “You wouldn’t be trying to sex me into surrender with those bedroom eyes, would you, Ty? Because it just might work.”
Subtlety. Finesse.
Two words never used to describe me.
In the heat of the moment, I lost any grasp on either. Maybe this is why I hadn’t gotten the promotion to management at work. Too impetuous?
“I was trying to say good luck,” Ty grumbled, his expression chagrined.
“I only take good luck kisses,” I answered airily, trying to hide my discomfort at being called out by pretending it was all a game. Teasing him restored some of my confidence. He’d never pick up on the implied dare.
Ty appeared momentarily stricken, before determination washed over his features. The competitive light in his eyes made my heart race. He hooked a finger in the waist of my jeans, tugging me up against his hard body, there in the hall, in front of bar patrons and any stray team members exiting the bathroom. I half expected someone to stop and yell “traitor” at us. Instead, I remained mesmerized by his dark gaze as he brushed a lock of hair away from my face, watching me steadily.
“I can do that too,” he said huskily.
He could do what now? I’d totally lost my train of thought. Win? Of course, he could. His team was tough to beat. Any lingering brain cells quit firing as he loomed closer, using the hand that had touched my cheek to tip my chin up.
He brushed a quick kiss across my lips, pausing to smile when I didn’t respond, too stunned by the action.
“Good luck,” he whispered, pulling away.
As tactics went, it was dirty. He knew I found him attractive. I didn’t ask just anyone to take me home. My crush on Ty had grown from schoolgirl fantasies to something deeper and darker over time. But two could play at the distraction game. If he wanted to toy with my emotions, tease me, then I would give as good as I got.
With interest.
I reached for his broad shoulders, enjoying their strength beneath his soft shirt, using my leverage to push him back toward the wood-paneled wall. I stepped closer, bringing my hips into his and stood on my tiptoes, pausing a beat to gauge his reaction. The light of challenge in his eyes sealed the deal.
I leaned into Ty, sipping at his lips.
If he wanted to use seduction against me, I at least wanted to get my money’s worth. Fantasies of Ty had kept me warm for months, but I needed some all-new material.
He tasted faintly of beer, and I traced the seam of his lips before he opened with a groan, returning my kiss stroke for stroke.
Hot and sweet, the soft caress sent tingles to all my best places. Our lips and tongues tangled, fighting for supremacy. Losing all sense of time, I only pulled away when I couldn’t breathe.
We stood panting, staring at each other. At some point in the madness, I’d pushed his baseball hat off, running my hands through his dark hair. The longish strands stood up in places, hopelessly mussed. Ty’s heavy-lidded gaze gave me a small sense of satisfaction. Sure, my panties may be damp, the growing pressure between my thighs making me needy, but I wasn’t the only one affected.
Ty acted like he wanted me too.
But was it an act?
Ty gaze landed on something over my shoulder and he stiffened, pushing me away from the heat of his body, his expression collapsing into one of studied politeness.
“Good luck, Andi,” he rumbled softly, before slipping away toward the trivia tables.
I stood alone in the hall, trying to catch my breath. Blind to everything but my raging hormones. Ty’s kiss hadn’t felt like disinterest. Had I misread the situation? Misread him?
“You consorting with the enemy, Andi?”
Startled, I shook my head, as much to recall myself to the present as to answer, and turned to face my brother. Jimmy appeared deceptively casual, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, as he gave me a knowing look.
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