Page 93 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

DEREK

Today is my lucky day.

I’d like to thank my sister for getting my ass out of bed.

I’d like to thank my niece for telling me the nice lady with the paints had just made her way down the veggie aisle.

And I’d like to thank fate that this avocado stand is in an out-of-the-way corner of the market, and that the farmer running it must have had to take one hell of a leak.

It’s just us.

This woman is fiery, flirty, and already driving me out of my mind. The stream of market-goers has thinned to a crawl as we near closing time, and left us in a cocoon of raw lust.

I place the fruit on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth, brush my fingers over her hip, and tug her against me. She lets out the sexiest little sound. “Tell me your name. I’m dying to know.”

“Why do you need it so badly?”

“So I know what name to say when I’m fantasizing.”

A murmur crosses her lips, and she leans her head back against me, her hair spilling down my chest. “Are you fantasizing about me?”

“Every. Single. Night.”

“You must be having a lot of long nights, Mr. Trouble.”

“Long, hard nights . . . Miss Demeanor,” I say with a smirk, trying that nickname on for size.

“Well played.”

“Thank you. It just came to me.”

She glances back at me, her green eyes looking rife with dirty thoughts. “Do you want to come down to the station with me?”

“I want your name, beautiful. Give me your name,” I growl into her ear, commanding her.

“Perri,” she says breathlessly, her voice betraying her longing. A longing that matches mine.

“Perri,” I repeat, tasting her name on my tongue.

Her voice tightens to a warning and sharpens as she speaks. “Don’t say it.”

I narrow my brow in question. “Say what?”

“Don’t say it’s a guy’s name.”

I laugh lightly in her ear, jerking her ass closer to my hard-on. “Do you honestly believe I’m thinking for one second about guys right now?”

She lets out a gasp, chased by a soft moan. “I don’t know. What exactly are you thinking about?”

I drag my scruff against her neck. “How close I am to getting a ticket for indecent everything.”

She wriggles her sexy rear against me. “I’d say everything feels way more than decent.”

I groan as a dart of lust shoots down my spine. I’d like to find a way to kiss the breath out of her right here, right now.

She tenses against me, her body straightening like a ruler, and my gaze flicks to the new crowd of people streaming around the corner, heading toward us.

Fuck me.

She twists around, and I’m staring at her stunning face and lips that look like they desperately need to be kissed.

I tuck a finger under her chin. “Nothing indecent about touching your gorgeous face.”

“No, I suppose it’s not indecent at all.”

“When are you done? I need to see you.”

“You need to see me?” she challenges.

My gaze travels up and down her curves, noting the rise and fall of her shoulders, the flush in her cheeks, the parting of her lips. “Absolutely. And it goes both ways, I’d say. I need to see you, get my hands on you. And you need to be kissed so fucking hard that you stop sassing me.”

A grin takes over her lips as she grabs two avocados—the one she touched and the one I was holding. “What makes you think a kiss would get me to stop sassing you?”

I smile back, shaking my head. “You’re right. Why would I think you’d stop dishing it right back at me?”

“I think you like how I dish it.”

“I believe you know I fucking love it.” I reach for her belt loop.

“Now listen, Perri. I’m done helping my sister in thirty minutes, and the way I see it is we can either grab a cup of coffee and gab about favorite TV shows and movies, then go for a stroll along the river and talk about what we do and where we went to college .

. .” I quirk an eyebrow and lower my voice.

“Or we can meet someplace where we can finish what the avocados started.”

She nibbles on the corner of those sexy lips—lips I intend to get to know biblically well—and then lifts a hand and grabs the neck of my T-shirt, jerking me closer.

“My friend runs the waffle truck on the outskirts of the market. Meet me there. I’m entering a kissing contest for charity, and if you can blow my mind in thirty minutes, you’ll be my partner.

That’s your mission, should you choose to accept it. ”

I shake my head like a dog shucking off water.

A kissing contest? What the hell? I’d like a fucking contest, thank you very much. But fucking starts with kissing, so there’s no earthly way I’m turning this chance down.

“Are you auditioning other candidates?”

With a sultry, confident stare, she shakes her head. “No. I’m waiting for you to blow me away.”

“Funny. I was waiting for you to blow me away.”

Her eyes take a tour of my body, stopping at my crotch. “We’ll see about that.”

I grab her wrist, grip her hand. “No one else is going to be kissing you in any contest, or by any waffle truck. Got that?”

“I guess you need to prove you have what it takes to make my knees weak.”

“And your panties wet.”

She wiggles an eyebrow, dips her face close, her soft cheek brushing against mine, and whispers in my ear, “You’ve already done that.”

Then she tosses a five-dollar bill to the farmer, who must have returned at some point, says, “Thanks, Bob,” and walks away.

Unabashedly, I tilt my head to the side, staring as she saunters down the aisle, giving me the chance to enjoy the sight of her ass, so fucking spectacular in those jeans.

As surreptitiously as possible, I adjust myself, then a pang of guilt stabs me.

We just practically dry-fucked in Farmer Bob’s stand. The least I can do is pay for the privilege. I buy a bag of avocados and hope to hell someone in the house wants guacamole.

By the time the market ends, guac is the last thing on my mind.

The waffle truck is first and foremost.