Page 12 of Matched (LSU #5)

He stepped closer. Reaching out, he placed the knuckle of his index finger under my chin, tilting my head up slightly. “Charlie,” he said softly, and then the fucking swoony asshole let his lips curve into a slow, sexy smile.

“Oh, fuck right off,” I managed to choke out, shoving his hand away from me.

“My date is immune to my charms.”

“My date is an annoying dickhead.”

“My date is a bastard who likes to insult me.”

“My date is an asshole.”

“My date is even more of an asshole.” Nate made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Enough of that. Let’s just agree we’re both assholes, and we can get on with the rest of our day.”

“Let’s agree you are, and we can go.” I followed him back to where we’d left our bikes.

It was much cooler in the shade of the tree, and I took a second to breathe in the fresh air before swiping my T-shirt from the ground so I could rub it across my face.

When I lowered it, Nate was standing right in front of me, and I couldn’t help my sharp exhale of surprise.

“Bit jumpy, aren’t you?” He gave me a smug grin, which widened when I glared at him. To be fair, it was hard to properly glare at someone when they were looking so pleased with themselves.

“I guess you’ve perfected the art of sneaking up on people, what with your stalkery criminal tendencies.”

“Maybe I have.” Moving around to my back, he dipped his head to my ear. “Boo.”

I was prepared for him this time, so I didn’t jump, but I did have to tense all my muscles so I didn’t do anything weird like shiver at the feel of his hot breath on my bare skin.

A hand appeared in front of my face, holding— “What the fuck? When did you get my phone?”

“Distraction technique,” Nate said low in my ear, dropping his hand. This time, I felt him slide my phone back into my pocket.

My dick felt it, too.

Oh, fuck. This was not good.

I exhaled slowly, trying to control my spiking heart rate. “Uh, good job. Let me try it.” What the fuck was I saying?

Because Nate’s head was still close to my ear, I heard his breath hitch, even though he cleared his throat and moved back straight away. “Go on, then. See if you can manage to mug me.”

“I’ll do it when you least expect it,” I promised, counting to ten inside my head.

When I felt calmer, I slid my sunglasses back on and turned around to find Nate crouched on the ground, digging around in his bag.

He’d put his sunglasses back on, too, and his cheeks were a little flushed, although it was probably from the exercise and the heat.

Straightening up, he tipped a sports bottle to his lips. I took my chance, sidling up behind him and slipping my hand into the right pocket of his shorts.

I completely misjudged—well, fucking everything , and my hand slid over the hard muscle of his thigh and then onto what was quite clearly his dick.

He choked on his water, spitting it everywhere as he jumped away from me with a gasp.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry!” I dropped to the ground, drawing up my knees and burying my flaming face in my arms. “Leave me here to die. Please.”

I’d touched his fucking dick. And now he was either going to run away or kill me, or if he did neither of those things, it was about to get very, very awkward between us.

“Charlie. It’s okay. I know you weren’t trying to touch my dick.”

I raised my head, hearing the amusement in Nate’s voice. There was something else there, too, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to examine it at that moment.

“All that trauma, and your phone wasn’t even in your pocket,” I moaned.

“Trauma.” He laughed. His cheeks were definitely more flushed than they had been, which was unsurprising since he’d just been inadvertently groped. “I’ve never heard that word used in relation to my dick before.”

“Have you ever had a man try to grope it before?”

“No, but it can accidentally happen sometimes when we’re fucking around or playing football— Wait. You were trying to grope me?”

“Nooo. No, I wasn’t. I promise. I was just trying to pickpocket you.”

“You did that, alright.”

“Ugh. Leave me to die, please.” I flopped back on the grass, covering my face. “My life of crime is over before it even managed to begin,” I mumbled.

Fingers curled around my palm, lifting it away from my face. Nate was sprawled out next to me, that stupid, wide grin on his face.

“Your first mistake was that you chose the wrong pocket. My phone was in my left pocket.”

“No, my first mistake was touching your dick.”

“Try again.”

“Fine.” In a move I was sure any martial artist would be proud of, I jackknifed my body up and threw myself onto Nate, straddling his thighs. My right hand went for his left pocket, but he was too quick for me, gripping my wrist and holding it in place.

“Nice try.” His free hand landed on my thigh. Why the fuck was he touching my thigh? I flexed the muscle beneath his palm, and he squeezed lightly. “I see what Renée meant about your thighs,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“W-what? Who’s Renée?”

He didn’t reply, focused on squeezing my muscle—and what the fuck was that all about, and why did I like it?

—and I took advantage of his distraction to shift my body just enough to reach across with my left hand and get my fingers into his pocket.

The tip of my index finger brushed against metal, warm from his body heat.

Then his fingers dipped under the hem of my shorts, pressing down on my skin, and I couldn’t stifle the gasp that tore from my throat.

We both froze, our gazes connecting through the barrier of our sunglasses.

I couldn’t see Nate’s eyes, but his lips were parted, and his cheeks were flushing a deep red beneath his tan.

I didn’t know what my face was doing, but I was sure it couldn’t be anything good, based on the way my heart was racing.

And my dick. My stupid, traitorous dick decided it very much liked what was happening. Fuck.

That was enough to shock me into movement.

I tore myself away from Nate, throwing myself down onto the grass and rolling. I heard Nate groan, and when I risked a glance at him, his arm was thrown over his face, and he was muttering something to himself.

Somehow, the fact that he seemed just as unnerved as I was calmed me slightly.

After taking several deep, slow breaths, I pulled my body upright.

My gaze flicked to Nate again, and I didn’t do it on purpose…

but my eyes went to his shorts. Or specifically to the place where there was a visible bulge.

I swallowed hard, willing my dick to behave.

It was fucking impossible, though, with Nate right there, all sweaty and lickable with his glistening muscles and?—

What the fuck . What the actual fucking fuck.

Enough was enough.

I cleared my throat and climbed to my feet, turning away from Nate.

Pacing up and down, I thought fast. Bike .

Yeah. That should work. I jogged over to my bike and picked up my T-shirt, pulling it back over my head.

After straightening my sunglasses, I pulled the bike upright and swung my leg over.

Pedalling slowly, I made a circle around the tree, and by the time I was back in my original starting position, my dick was under control.

Nate was now standing with his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts.

He’d twisted his cap around and pulled it down low, the brim throwing his face into shadow.

Stopping my bike, I cocked my head. “It looks like I failed as a career criminal. Wanna have a bike race instead?” Thank fuck my voice came out more or less normal, and it seemed as if it was enough to convince Nate, because the corners of his mouth turned up into a tiny smile, and he began making his way towards me.

When he reached our bikes, he pulled on his own T-shirt, and after grabbing his stuff, he climbed on his bike and turned to me.

“First one to the ice cream van by the fountains wins.”

Then the cheating bastard cycled away at high speed before his words had even registered in my head.

Swearing under my breath, I raced after him, drawing closer but never catching up.

“Cheat!” I shouted, and I heard him laugh, but he didn’t slow down.

The ice cream van came into view, and I pedalled harder, putting on a burst of speed, and by some miracle, I managed to draw level with his back wheel when he had to swerve around a dog that had appeared out of nowhere.

But when we both skidded to a stop on the path in front of the ice cream van, Nate was still slightly ahead.

“Yes! I won!” he shouted, fist pumping the air, and I shook my head at him.

“It doesn’t count as a win if you cheated.”

He smirked at me. “Sounds like the words of a loser.”

I discreetly gave him the middle finger—discreetly, because there were children around—and he laughed again.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s leave our bikes over there, and I’ll buy you an ice cream to make up for your loss.”

When we’d left our bikes safely locked up and were walking along the path next to the sparkling water of the Serpentine with our ice cream cones in hand, I realised what a bad idea this had been.

Because the way Nate ate that ice cream was fucking pornographic. It seemed like now I’d noticed him in a certain way, my body was reacting to everything he did, and I was honestly at a loss. I’d never been in this kind of situation before.

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Huh?” Nate glanced over at me before swiping his tongue over the top of his ice cream.

“N-nothing,” I choked out, closing my lips over my own ice cream in an effort to distract myself.

Creamy vanilla filled my mouth, sweet and delicious, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the man walking next to me, his arm occasionally brushing mine and sending chills across my overheated skin.

Holy fuck. This was not just a weird non-heatstroke thing. I knew I’d been in denial, but there was only so much denying I could do before the inevitable conclusion forced its way to the front of my mind.

I think I might fancy Nate Glover .