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"Let's practice," I suggested, shifting back to put distance between us. "Pretend I'm just another King at the party. You don't know me."

"Okay." She straightened, smoothing her expression into something neutral. Then her eyes went heavy-lidded and her voice dropped to a purr. "Hey there, hot stuff. Want to show me your bike?"

"Lena."

"What?" She grinned, unrepentant. "I'm supposed to pretend I don't know you. This is me meeting a sexy stranger."

"Not by hitting on me!"

"How else do I explain staring at your ass all night?" She was fully smiling now, tension melting into mischief. "Come on, it's a valid strategy. If I'm flirting with random bikers, no one will notice I'm actually obsessing over one specific VP."

"No flirting with random bikers," I growled, the thought making my jaw clench even though she was clearly teasing.

"Possessive. Like at the dress shop." She crawled toward me, predatory and playful. "I like it. Makes me want to misbehave just to see what you'd do."

"Try it and find out," I warned, but she was already straddling my lap, arms looped around my neck.

"This is terrible practice," she admitted, pressing closer. "We're supposed to be ignoring each other."

"Right." I didn't move my hands from her hips. "Ignoring. Professional distance."

"Minimal interaction." She shifted, and I bit back a groan. "Polite but distant."

We looked at each other for about three seconds before she was kissing me, desperate and hungry like we hadn't seen each other in weeks instead of hours. My hands tangled in her hair, and any thought of practicing appropriate behavior evaporated.

"This is impossible," she gasped when we broke for air. "How am I supposed to watch you at the party and not touch you?"

"Same way I watch you exist and don't carry you off to the nearest flat surface," I said roughly. "Badly and with great difficulty."

She kissed me quick and light. "We should eat before the food gets cold. Plus I need to finish my juice box experiment."

"The experiment is canceled," I decided, standing with her still wrapped around me. "You're having three drinks maximum tomorrow, and you're staying with the bridal party."

"Sir, yes sir," she said with mock solemnity, then squeaked as I spun her toward the kitchen. "Tyson!"

"Practicing my commanding presence," I said innocently. "Since you find it so distracting."

Her laughter followed us into the kitchen, bright and genuine despite tomorrow's looming challenges. We ate Chinese food straight from the containers, laughing and joking about the upcoming challenge.

But later, curled together on her couch, the reality crept back in. On Friday we'd be surrounded by brothers, gossipsand Duke's too-knowing eyes. We'd have to pretend this thing between us didn't exist.

"Hey," she said softly, reading my tension. "We'll be okay. It's just one party."

"Famous last words," I muttered, but pulled her closer.

She tucked her head under my chin, and I breathed in the scent of her, storing it up for Friday when I'd have to keep my distance.

Friday would bring its own challenges. Tonight, she was mine, and that was enough.

Chapter 15

Lena

Thescrapofblackfabric I held up could generously be called a dress if you squinted and had very poor vision. More accurately, it was a suggestion of clothing, held together by strategic placement and pure optimism. Tyson's expression went from amused to horrified in about two seconds flat.

"Absolutely not," he said for the third time, arms crossed over his chest in that way that made his biceps strain against his t-shirt. Not that I was noticing. Much.

"Thisisa dress," I argued, trying not to laugh at his territorial male expression. The thing barely covered the essentials, with cutouts in places that would make a stripper blush. Which was exactly why I'd bought it.