Page 110 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

DEREK

For the record, I’m not one of those guys who’s into chick flicks.

I’m your standard-issue, horror-loving, thrill-seeking guy. I don’t need war flicks or blow-’em-up movies, but I do dig the scary stuff more than anything else.

And way more than kissy-face movies.

When Katie used to make me watch them, I always talked during the kisses.

Because the kisses were boring. C’mon. They aren’t real, and they’re hardly sexy.

One night during her five hundredth rewatch of You’ve Got Mail , I asked her what we were doing that weekend right as Meg Ryan said, “ I wanted it to be you ,” and I received the kind of dirty look that men spend a lifetime trying to avoid.

But when I find Perri’s note telling me to get ready for a movie kiss reenactment this evening, I don’t think I’ll be bored.

Now showing: At 9 p.m. tonight, please come to the theater of the living room prepared to reenact a movie kiss. Remember—practice makes perfect.

Yep, I’m not foreseeing boredom. I’ll be wildly aroused. Insanely turned on. And loving the flicks in a whole new way.

At the farmers market, I help Jodie at her booth, though I do manage to stroll past the face-painting one a few times, and I wink at Perri. The guy next to her makes a poodle balloon for a girl, and I half want to sneer at him. For no other reason than I know he’s the one going after her job.

Hers.

That promotion belongs to Perri. She’s fierce and tough and devoted. She works hard after hours. She’s a go-getter. She should get the job.

I return to Jodie’s booth then spend the afternoon with the kiddos, but most of the time, I’m thinking about practice.

That evening, I find Perri on the couch at the appointed time, waiting for me, iPad in hand.

I lift an eyebrow. “You’re not going to force me to watch those movies, are you?”

She rises, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. She’s wearing . . . a tiny sports bra and shorts so short they’re nearly underwear.

My brain short-circuits, and my body goes haywire.

She’s too sexy for my own good.

She’s curvy in all the right places and trim in all the other ones. Toned and tight, with tits I need in my mouth.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything.” Her voice is smoky.

I clear my throat, trying to wrestle some control over the situation, but I’m pretty sure I have none as she walks toward me, impossibly sexy and with just enough gloss on her pouty lips to make me want to kiss it all off.

She leans against the arm of the couch, crosses those toned legs, and tells me to join her. I move next to her, my skin sizzling at how damn close we are and how much closer I want to be. She swipes her finger on the screen and taps on a clip of the best movie kisses of all time.

“We can try reenacting Gone with the Wind , Ten Things I Hate About You , and even Spiderman , which would be tough to pull off but could totally win us the contest on account of how hard it is to do an upside-down kiss in the rain. Or we could do Dirty Dancing , when Baby crawls across the floor to Johnny.”

“Sure,” I say, my voice gravelly because I don’t care which one we do. I want them all. I want her.

She shows me the reel, and it’s a blur because I’m thinking of her body and the way she smells and how she looks.

Soon enough, she shuts the cover of the iPad and tells me to sit on the floor like Swayze did in Dirty Dancing .

She turns around, gives me the naughtiest look over her shoulder, then walks a few feet away.

She swivels back, drops down to her knees, and proceeds to crawl to me.

Across the floor.

This is the best roomie situation ever. She’s the perfect housemate. Yeah, come sit on my face. Come ride me.

She reaches me, meets my lips, and kisses me so softly and sweetly, it blows my mind. My dick would like to be blown too, and he’s announcing his desires loud and proud.

Perri slinks closer, deepening the kiss. She swipes her tongue against mine and ratchets this moment to a whole other level. She’s fierce and fiery, and she kisses me with an intensity that makes my cock swell and my desire shoot through the roof.

I want to take her right now. Have her right here. Fuck her on the floor, on the couch, anywhere, everywhere.

She’s insistent and in control, even on all fours, kissing me. She rises to her knees, and my desire shoots to the sky. Touch me now , I want to growl, and maybe my wish is going to come true, since her hands are on a fast track for my crotch.

But they land on my thighs.

And you know what? That feels pretty fucking good too. She presses her palms hard on my legs, inching close to my cock as she kisses me.

“The other night,” she whispers, breaking the kiss.

“Yeah?”

“After the forehead kiss. When you went upstairs and you had nothing on . . .”

“What about it?”

“Did you get yourself off?”

I groan. “Damn straight I did.”

She murmurs. “You, in bed, jacking off. Hot. ”

“You can come help me tonight,” I rasp, shuddering as lust surges through me. As I picture her finding me, joining me, wrapping her hand around my dick.

I’m burning up with a wild longing for her. I grab her wrists, drag her even closer. Her eyes drift down to my hard-on, tenting my shorts.

She licks her lips. “Will you be jerking this perfect dick in your bed in a little while?”

Holy hell, she is the vixen of my dreams with her filthy little mouth. “I’d much rather you do it for me.”

Her lips curve up. “I bet you would.”

“You want to, kitten?” Fuck resistance. Fuck ground rules. I need to fuck her.

“I’d love to . . .”

I’m ready to pull her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her upstairs. “Now. Let’s go now.”

She smiles like that’s all she wants in the world. Then the smile transforms. Naughtier, more mischievous. She lets go of me, sighs contentedly, stands, and brushes her hands down her thighs. “That was great practice.”

What the hell? Is she high? Is she tripping on something? Because there’s no way she said that.

I rub a finger against my ear. “That was practice?”

She blows me a kiss. “Of course. Just like the times you teased me. No mercy, remember?”

I burn with frustration. I’m amped up to the moon. I’m a lethal combination of aroused to the ends of the Earth and annoyed to the center of it. I point at her. “Don’t forget the no sympathy part. That means you, woman. You want to play this game? Then you are on.”

She lifts her defiant chin. Nibbles on the corner of her lip.

Arches an eyebrow. “Bring it.” She winks, sways her hips, and saunters down the hall.

When she reaches her door, she turns around, slides her hand down her chest on a fast track to her waist, then lower.

She teases her fingertips against the waistband of her shorts.

My dick tries to chase after her, the rest of me army-crawling behind it if need be.

“By the way, I’ll be in my room, naked and thinking of you as I replay that.” She dips her finger inside her waistband before she spins around.

A second later, her door clicks shut.

Payback isn’t a bitch. Payback is a hard-as-stone dick that’s desperate for attention and not getting it.

Screw silver-screen imitation.

Forget my own attempts at air smooches, old-fashioned lip-locks, and any other kind of kiss.

It’s time to throw out the playbook.

That’s what I intend to do, before I detonate from lust.