The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(27)

“Don’t fall for the clients.”

“Don’t. Fall.” I scrubbed harder. “For.” My hand was starting to cramp. “The clients.”

“I think it’s clean, bro.” Lex jerked the plate out of my hands and gave me a pat on the back. “And you’re the one who made the rules. Not me.”

“We have a legitimate company, one that both of us are hoping will eventually take over as the number one dating app in the world. Why screw that up because you fall for a sad girl who wants the guy who’s never looked twice at her?”

Lex smirked, his toothy grin making me want to inflict violence on his person. Or another damn dish. “Why, indeed?”

“You’re seriously shitting up the wrong tree, and you’re pissing me off. Go argue with Gabi or something.”

“So no kissing?”

I sighed and braced myself against the porcelain sink. “No. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Hmm.”

The girls’ chatter got louder as they made their way into the kitchen.

“No dessert?” Blake piped up.

I froze.

Lex and I were both still facing the kitchen window, and I could see his smug expression in the reflection. Just like he could see me flipping him off right above the dishwater.

“Dessert? I didn’t get any,” Gabi said, “but—”

“Actually.” I turned around quickly. “About that . . . Blake, can I talk to you upstairs for a minute?”

“Sure.” But she hesitated.

“Great.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the stairs, praying that Gabi and Lex would get into it so I’d have an excuse to call the police and get the hell out of that house before I embarked on more rule-breaking.

Once we were in her room, I shut the door behind me and stalked toward her. She moved backward until her legs collided with the bed.

“You look upset,” she said.

Frowning, I grabbed her spaghetti-stained shirt and tugged it over her head.

Blake let out a little squeak as I dipped my thumbs into the spandex shorts and tugged them all the way to her ankles. Thankfully, she stepped out of her flip-flops as well as the shorts.

I stood to my full height.

And blinked.

Was I hallucinating?

“You’re—” I coughed into my hand. “You’re”—I glanced away, seeking to restore the balance of power—“in a thong.” It was one thing to hear about her wearing one, but actually seeing the proof? Damn near intoxicating.

“They’re comfortable,” Blake said with a shrug. “And it’s not like I planned on getting a spaghetti bath or having my love coach strip me down to nothing.”

“Love coach.” I still wasn’t looking at her. “I love the way you say it.”

“Does this stripping have a purpose?”

I jerked my head in her direction. “Stripping should always have a purpose.”

Her eyebrows rose.

My eyes were fighting a battle with my head. My eyes wanted to stare at her nearly bare ass, while my head told me that there was no part of the screening process that involved me groping her smooth skin or asking her to turn around, bend over, and arch her back. Unfortunately.

Blake’s hair lay tousled around her shoulders, giving her this wild sex-kitten look that I was about 200 percent sure David wouldn’t know what to do with.

Damn David.

“Ian?”

“We need to wash your clothes,” I said dumbly.

“And I needed your help getting them off, or what?”

“Next lesson.” I seriously needed to get my mojo back before I lost my shit. “Kissing.”

Blake slumped onto the bed and let out a little whimper. “You read my answer. I’ve never been kissed.”

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Her head jerked up, blue eyes burning a hole through my chest, making it itch, or tighten, or—what the hell was wrong with me? “No.”

“Is that normal? Do you usually kiss your clients or just teach them?”

“Each client is different,” I said smoothly. “But right now, I’m going to focus on teaching you how to get him to kiss you, as well as how to get him to see you in a sexual way. Think you can handle that?”

She nodded.

Her boobs bobbed slightly. I ruffled my hair and then stalked over to her small closet. “You got any giant hoodies in here or muumuus or something?”

Blake came up behind me. Her body heat blasted me. A few more inches and her breasts would be pressed up against my back, and in that position I could almost lean forward, then in one move twist her around so that she was in my arms, straddling me.

Too easy.

“Right”—her arm brushed mine—“here.”

“Honest moment.” I frowned at the ratty blue hoodie. “Why the hell do you wear clothes like this?”

Blake tossed it over her head and huffed out. “We all have our things, right?”

“Guess so.”

Funny, a day ago I wouldn’t have looked twice at her in that sweatshirt, but now that I was actually getting to know her? And knew what was underneath? It looked sexy as hell as it hung past her hips to midthigh. It teased me.