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27

Holland

I sneak another peek at Bridger from across the table. This newfound friendship that has sprung up between us is seriously disturbing.

And yet, I like it.

The more time I spend with him, the more I find myself falling.

My heart skips a beat as everything inside me freezes.

No way.

Falling is the last thing I’m doing.

So maybe he’s turning out to be different from what I originally thought.

He’s deeper.

Softer.

Kinder.

Fuck.

It’s almost a relief when the chime of my phone pulls my attention away from him. I scoop up my cell and glance at the screen.

A muffled groan rises in my chest.

Mom

Amazing idea! Let’s double date this weekend! Me and Jigsaw with you and his club buddy, Hammer! It should be fun! Let me know if you’re in.

Jigsaw.

Hammer.

Double date.

I blink at the message, half-expecting it to morph into something less insane. My guess is that he wasn’t dubbed Jigsaw because he enjoys putting puzzles together.

And Hammer?

I don’t even want to know how he got that nickname.

Mom’s pop-up romances normally fizzle after a few days. It’s a little disconcerting that this one is still going strong.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Who was that from?” Bridger’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he glances at me from above the laptop open in front of him. “Usually that kind of scowl is reserved solely for me. Should I be jealous?”

“Hardly.” Instead of explaining, I tilt the screen toward him. His eyes scan the message, and before I can pull it back, his fingers wrap around mine, taking the phone.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

His lips curve as his thumbs move across the mini keyboard. “Solving your problem.”

Doubtful.

“Bridger—”

Before I have the chance to threaten him, he passes the slim device back to me, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re welcome.”

I read his message, and my jaw drops.

“Oh my God.” I scan it for a second time just to be sure I didn’t misread it as heat creeps up my neck. “You told her that I would bring my own date and—” My eyes narrow as I process his words. “And that I’m really into him?” I glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

He grins as his shoulders shake with laughter. “What? I’m just helping maintain our cover.”

“By telling my mother I’m really into you?”

“Would you prefer if I said that you find me irresistible? Because I can send another?—”

I swivel on the chair and hold the cell away so he can’t grab it again. “Don’t you dare.”

My phone chimes immediately.

Mom

OMG!!! You’re dating someone?? Why didn’t you tell me? THIS IS INCREDIBLE! I need details! SEND PICS ASAP!!

I don’t realize that Bridger has walked around the table and is now standing behind me, reading over my shoulder until his warm breath stirs my hair. “She seems super excited at the prospect of meeting me.”

“Shut up.” I elbow him, but he doesn’t move away. “Now she’s going to be impossible, and I’ll never hear the end of it. You have no idea the can of worms you’ve just opened.”

“Can of worms? Really? Should I grab you a rocking chair and some hard candy, gam-gam?”

I press my lips together until they feel bloodless. This situation is spiraling out of control, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to stop it.

Another text appears.

Mom

Is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.

“Obviously, you should answer yes.” He makes a swipe for the phone. “Here, just give it to me. I’ll field that question.”

With a groan, I shove him away. “You better sleep with one eye open from now on, Sanderson. Because I’m going to murder you.”

His smile intensifies. “Ahhh, there’s the threat of bodily harm again.” He waggles his brows in the most ridiculous way. “If I recall correctly, that’s one of your love languages.”

“It’ll be a pleasure to take you out. I can put both of us out of our misery.”

“I’m starting to understand that you jest because you love.” Somehow he manages to pluck the phone from my hands again. “I think we both know you’d miss me way too much if you did that.”

“What are you—” I catch a glimpse of what he’s typing and try to snatch the cell away. “Don’t you dare tell her that!”

When he lifts it just out of my reach, I pop to my feet and make a last-ditch effort to take it from him. He uses his free hand to keep me at bay. I slip beneath his arm and redouble my efforts, but he thwarts me by lifting the cell above his head. I’m tall, but not that tall. The way he grins down at me is maddening.

“Bridger.” My voice comes out sounding ridiculously breathy. “Give me my phone.”

His eyes darken as we stare at each other, neither of us daring to move a muscle.

It’s only when my phone chimes that the moment is shattered.

I jerk his bicep down and grab my cell before swinging away to read the message.

Mom

He sounds dreamy!! I can’t wait to meet him. Although, Hammer will be disappointed. I really talked you up.

“Well, would you look at that?” His voice is rougher than usual. “Guess I’m meeting Mama Tate after all.”

I throw an irritated glance over my shoulder, trying to ignore how scattered his proximity makes me. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Nah.” When he steps closer, it becomes necessary to tilt my chin upward to meet his gaze. “Added bonus, you won’t be going on a blind date with some guy named Hammer.”

“Hmm. It almost sounds like you’re worried about me, Sanderson.”

He shrugs. “Just looking out for my fake girlfriend.” But there’s an edge to his voice that makes my pulse skip. “Can’t have you getting dismembered during playoffs. It would be a bad look for the team.”

“That is so thoughtful of you. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a giver.” He flashes a grin. “I think you found that out for yourself the other morning.”

The memory of him grinding against me until I orgasmed rushes in, and heat explodes in my core. I’ve been thinking about that moment way more than I should. And it’s not like I packed my trusty vibe with me to take care of business.

Although, who knew I’d need it?

“Penny for your thoughts, Tate.” He cocks his head. “Actually, I’d be willing to pay a lot more than that.”

I’m not a girl who blushes easily, but I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

Before I can wrap my lips around a response, he says, “And don’t tell me nothing.” There’s a pause. “Or maybe you’re just chickenshit? Cause I didn’t take you for that either.”

Well, hell.

Now I’m trapped.

He’s right. I’ve never been scared to voice my opinions or tell someone exactly how I feel. And I don’t want to start now.

My gaze stays locked on his as I lift my chin. “I was just thinking about how good that morning felt.”

His eyes darken, turning gunmetal in hue, as he steps closer until the broad expanse of his chest presses against the steady rise and fall of my breasts. The delicious contact is enough to have my nipples peaking. The way his pupils dilate, the black swallowing up the varying shades of gray, tells me that he feels them.

“It did feel good,” he whispers before walking me backward until my ass hits the edge of the table. “I can’t stop wondering what your pussy tastes like. Makes me wish I’d taken the time to find out.”

My breath catches as more liquid heat pools in my core and dampens my panties. I shift as my thighs clench with need.

When was the last time a guy turned me on this much?

One whose name wasn’t Bridger Sanderson?

It’s pretty revealing that I can’t recall.

He’s certainly not the only guy I’ve slept with, but he’s the only one who left an indelible mark.

I brace my palms on the smooth surface and tilt my face upward to meet Bridger’s eyes. The heat in his gaze makes my breath catch. The instant his lips crash into mine, the world narrows until there’s nothing but the press of his mouth, the warmth of his body caging mine. Bridger has this infuriating ability to make me forget everything.

Where we are.

The reason we’re pretending.

Why I shouldn’t want this.

His tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and I open without hesitation. The kiss is all-consuming. A heady rush of sensation that leaves me dizzy and unmoored. He tastes like mint and something darker, more addictive. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss, and I forget all the reasons this is a bad idea just waiting to explode in my face.

I’m pulled from those thoughts when someone clears their throat.

Once.

Then twice.

On the third time, my eyes crack open, and I pull back slightly, craning my neck to find an older woman standing stiffly next to our table. Judging by the tight set of her lips, she’s less than pleased about making the journey from the circulation desk.

“Uh...” My hands fly to Bridger’s chest, pushing him back.

He growls—actually growls—at the interruption. “What’s wrong?”

I jerk my chin toward our audience. “We have company.”

His head swings around, and his expression shifts to something boyishly sheepish that shouldn’t be as charming as it is. “Oh. Hey, Mrs. Greeny.”

“Bridger.” Her voice could freeze hell itself as her eyes dart between us. “The library is no place for shenanigans.”

He wipes at his mouth with his thumb, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re absolutely right,” he says smoothly, turning on that charm that probably got him out of trouble his whole life. “It won’t happen again.”

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh, though whether from his obvious lie or the whole ridiculous situation, I’m not sure.

Her frown deepens. “See that it doesn’t.” With a spin, she marches back to her desk.

I clear my throat, running fingers through my thoroughly mussed hair. “Well, that was mortifying. Maybe we should get back to?—”

“Not a chance,” Bridger interrupts, his eyes dark with intent. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet. Pack your bag.”

My brows shoot up. “Excuse me? Are you always this demanding?”

His lips curve into that dangerous smirk that makes my stomach flip. “Oh, Tate. You have no idea how demanding I can be.”

The promise in his voice shorts out my brain. I blink, for once without a sharp comeback.

He takes advantage of my silence, efficiently packing our laptops into our bags and slinging both over his shoulder. His fingers wrap around my wrist as he tugs me toward the staircase. He doesn’t spare Mrs. Greeny another glance as we pass.

The cool evening air hits my flushed skin as we burst through the library doors. Campus is unusually quiet, the normal buzz of students replaced by an almost eerie stillness. Instead of heading for the parking lot like I expect, Bridger leads me around the corner of the building.

My pulse thunders beneath his fingers, excitement and something darker rushing through my veins.

This is a terrible idea.

But I’m starting to think those are my favorite kind.

The moment we’re hidden from view, Bridger spins me against the brick wall. Our bags hit the ground with a thud as his hands bracket my face. He pauses, his breath mingling with mine.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice comes out rough. “I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

“That’s not my problem,” I say, but the words lack their usual bite. It’s difficult to maintain my prickly demeanor when he’s looking at me like this.

“No?” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Because from where I’m standing, you seem just as affected.”

I should deny it.

I should push him away and remind him this is all pretend.

Instead, I fist my hands in his shirt and pull him closer. “How about you just shut up and kiss me?”

His laugh rumbles against my lips before he claims them. This kiss is different from the one in the library. It’s deeper, hungrier, like he’s trying to devour me whole. His body presses mine into the wall, one hand sliding into my hair while the other grips my hip.

I arch into him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. Every point of contact between us burns, and I can’t get enough. His lips trail down my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that makes me gasp.

“God, the sounds you make,” he murmurs against my skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Bridger...” His name comes out somewhere between a warning and a plea.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and what I see there makes my heart stumble. There’s desire, yes, but something else too. Something that looks dangerously close to?—

“No,” he cuts me off, his voice low and raw. “No more interruptions.”

He leans in, and the rest of my protest melts away the moment his lips claim mine again. Our tongues tangle and teeth scrape. A groan works its way free from him as my arms slip around his neck to pull him closer.

One hand falls from my cheek before drifting down my breasts and rib cage.

He pulls away long enough to mutter, “Have I mentioned how fucking hot you look in that outfit?”

“I think?—”

He swallows up the rest of my response as his hand slips beneath the band of my skirt and into my panties. I whimper when he grazes my clit before sliding two fingers deep inside my core.

“Already wet for me, huh?”

He nips my lower lip as he pumps in and out of my pussy. His eyes remain locked on mine, intent and hungry, as if he’s determined to catch every fleeting emotion that crosses my face. The intensity of his gaze only deepens the intimacy we’re sharing.

We don’t break eye contact as I find my release. He continues to stroke me the entire time. It’s only when he’s wrung every drop that my knees weaken.

His fingers are still buried deep inside me when he says, “I’m willing to bet your pussy tastes just as sweet as your mouth.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

His teeth flash in the darkness that has fallen as he withdraws from my body before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them deep into his mouth. Arousal floods his eyes as more wetness leaks from me.

It’s only when he licks them clean that he says, “I was right. Just as sweet.”

Before I can come up with a pithy response, my phone buzzes with an incoming message. I groan, remembering that Bridger invited himself on a double date with Mom and her new boyfriend.

“Think it’s Mama Tate?”

“Stop calling her that,” I say with a snort. “But, yeah, it probably is.”

“Should we check to see what she has to say?”

“Just so you know, you’ve officially ruined this moment.”

His lips tremble with a smile as he smacks another kiss against my mouth and slips his hand into the pocket of my jacket before pulling out my phone and glancing at the screen.

“You’re right, it’s Mama Tate.”

“Pretty sure she doesn’t want you calling her that,” I can’t help but point out.

He refocuses on my cell. Maybe if I still weren’t in an orgasmic haze, I’d swipe it away from him.

“Hmmm. You’re not password protected? That’s surprising. I would have expected a higher level of security from you.”

“Maybe that’s because nosy fake boyfriends have never been a problem in the past.”

His gaze dips to my lips. “In case you haven’t noticed, muffin, things have changed.”

“Apparently so.”

When he continues to stare, I clear my throat. “What does Mom have to say? Has she taken pity on me and decided to cancel? Something came up with Jigsaw? Puzzle night at the club trumps dinner with her only kid?”

“You wish.”

“Truth.”

He glances at the screen and sums up the message. “Your mom wants to know if she can finally post about her baby girl and her new boyfriend.”

“Oh God.” I drop my head into my hands. “Look what you started.”

His laugh is warm. “Want me to field that one too? I don’t mind.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?”

“Please, Tate. I haven’t even started yet.” There’s a pause. “Think she’ll regale me with embarrassing childhood stories?”

“I really fucking hope not.”

His grin turns wicked. “Or how about baby pictures? Think I’ll get to ooh and aah over some of those?”

“This is going to be a disaster.”

“Probably.” He leans closer before brushing his lips across mine. “But at least it’ll be entertaining.”

Mom’s texts keep flooding in, each one more excited than the last. Bridger continues to read them, his quiet laughter washing over me, making my lips twitch. I can’t help but wonder exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.

But as I stare into his eyes, I’m finding it harder to remember why that’s necessarily a bad thing.