The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(43)

Her laughter faded.

“Is that so?”

I nodded seriously. “First rule of kindergarten. Didn’t you listen in class?”

“Must have missed that lesson.”

I nodded. “It’s right up there with fire safety.”

She gripped my head with both of her hands and pulled. Our foreheads nearly touched. Breathing suddenly became extremely difficult as her eyes stared down my lips. And then very slowly, she turned my head and licked up my cheek.

Every single part of my body felt that lick.

And wanted to feel it a second time.

I closed my eyes and shuddered. “Thought I told you not to play a player?”

“Just following your rules.”

“Sometimes”—I cupped her cheek with my hand—“I really hate my rules.”

She swallowed. “Me too.”

I wasn’t sure who did it first, me or her, but suddenly we were kissing, or more importantly, I was straddling her, and kissing the shit out of her while she hooked her legs around my body and jerked me against her.

It was heaven.

It was hell.

Moaning, we both tumbled to the floor, her on top, then me, then her, then me.

She didn’t kiss like she was innocent. She kissed like her mouth was starving for mine. And kissing her back was like finally finding the one girl I wanted to kiss, possibly even more than screw.

Because her lips felt so damn good that releasing them to take off her clothes would have been a crime.

Our tongues tangled as she ran her hands through my hair. I moved to her bra, and she kicked off her flip-flops, nearly hitting me in the head.

“Easy, tiger,” I mumbled against her mouth.

She laughed, then kissed me harder, our teeth nearly knocking together as I deepened the kiss. Doubt became a fire alarm clamoring in my head, but I ruthlessly hammered it away, desperate for more of Blake. Her lips moved beneath mine—hot, wet, welcoming, and so demanding that she was nearly sending me over the edge.

The front door closed.

We stopped kissing.

But we didn’t pull apart.

I knew there wouldn’t be time.

“Whoa.” Lex surveyed the situation. “Either he drugged you, or—”

“Training,” I blurted, sharing a look with Blake. “We’re setting up a date night for her and David. He’s moving through the stages so fast I imagine he’ll try something during the movie.”

Blake’s body went rigid, and she averted her eyes from mine, then gave Lex a forced smile. “I think I got it.”

With a shove, she had me on my ass and was grabbing her phone and purse.

“Thanks, Ian.”

“Blake—”

“Really.” She turned, and her smile was so fake it hurt to see. “I, uh, I’ll text you tomorrow about the details for the date.”

Shit. I wasn’t going to actually allow the date!

The door slammed.

I flinched.

Lex let out a low whistle, then patted me on the back. “Good job, dude. Why not just be honest? For once.”

“She’s a client.” I was convincing no one with that convictionless statement.

“She’s more.”

“She’s . . .” I punched the pillow, then threw it hard against the couch. “She’s my client. If David’s what she wants, I’ll help her. She deserves at least that much.”

“What if he isn’t what she wants?” Lex asked quietly. “What will you do?”

“I . . .”

“That’s what I thought.” He walked over to the light switch and flicked it off. “See you on the other side.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN

The next few days flew by. Blake answered my texts politely, and the kiss was never mentioned.

I knew I’d hurt her. When I closed my eyes, I still saw the look of disbelief on her face, which had quickly turned into anger as she hung her head and walked out of the house.

And that was why women weren’t allowed in the house.

Why I had rules, damn it!

I stared at the couch. Like it was going to suddenly give me a replay of what had happened a few nights ago.

Her mouth had tasted so sweet, so luscious. Just thinking about it was making my dick strain against my jeans. My physical reaction was alarming enough without adding in the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering if she was okay, and wanting to talk to her.

Just talk.

About nothing. I just needed to hear her voice.

Shit.

Lex waltzed into the room, took one look at me pouring myself a glass of orange juice, and smirked. “Oranges do it for you now?” he said. “Should I hide those orange-blossom candles in the living room, or is this just a stage?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the juice. Or the oranges.” I sighed. “It’s the couch.”

“Uh.” A perplexed look crossed Lex’s features. “The couch?”

I nodded.

“So your new dirty words are big cushions? High thread count? Soft leather? Ikea?”

“Shut it.” I covered my face with my hands and let out a few curses. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Dude, if a couch gave you an erection, you tell me.”