Page 89 of Before Eve

“West,” I playfully warn.

“What? There was nothing in the bet about distraction rules.”

I circle the table, wishing I knew how to play the flirting game better. “I’m sure the bra wasn’t nearly as cute as those lacy ones that get thrown at you.”

“Jealous?”

I give him a look that says I’m anything but. Yet I suppose I am.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather see your beige cotton one than any lacy thing.”

“West,” I warn again.

“Fair enough.” He waves me on.

I tug my V-neck T-shirt up so he can’t see my bra, then line up for the next shot. A solid yellow goes in the side pocket, then a solid blue into a corner pocket. I miss green, and West jumps off his stool.

I search my brain for something to say to distracthim,but come up with nothing.

He succeeds in sinking a purple striped but misses on his next try.

I step back into place and lean over for my next ball, completely aware that West stands right behind me.

“You’ve got a cute little butt.”

I miss my shot and turn to look at him. “You did that on purpose.”

“Yes, I did.” He misses his shot, too.

My turn again. I motion for him to go sit on a stool. “No talking. No lecherous looks either.”

He holds his hands up in surrender.

My solid green ricochets off the side and zips into the opposite corner. I circle, studying the solid purple, and then send it from one end of the table to the other, back again, and spiraling down a front corner pocket.

West claps. “Go, girl.”

I round the table for the winning shot, the eight ball. I point to the side pocket to signify where the eight will go, give it a soft tap, and it plops into its appointed hole.

Still on the stool, West crooks his finger at me.

Casually, I stroll over. “Guess you’re getting me a suite.”

“Guess so.” He hooks his finger in my front belt loop and pulls me in between his legs. “Anne would be so proud.”

I loop my arms around his neck. “Yep.”

He presses his lips right below my ear and chuckles, and it sends a shiver down my spine. He slides his hands to my rib cage and pulls me closer as his lips trace the line of my neck. I tilt my head, savoring the tingling sparking through my muscles.

He presses one last kiss to my cheek before hopping off his stool and grabbing our jackets. “Better clear out before the New Year partiers get here.” He helps me into my jacket, takes my hand, and leads me out.

I soak in the moment. “Maybe next time we can bet on more of what we did last night?” I unexpectedly, boldly say.

He stops walking and turns to me. “Eve, are you flirting with me?”

“Yes, sorry.” I cover my face with my hands. “I’m not very good at it.”

Prying my hands away, he kisses me hard on the lips. “You’re very good at it. And we don’t have to bet. I’ll gladly let you do more ‘homework’ anytime.”