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“Harris.” He shakes his head, his nose once again sliding against mine.
“I want to kiss you so badly that I can already taste you on my tongue.” His breath slides across my face and I swear every inch of my skin heats.
I close my eyes and let the feeling sink in, my earlier thoughts starting to creep back in.
This is a game. A game he’s playing very well. Perhaps it’s my turn to play back.
“Then do it,” I dare him, my eyes opening to lock with his surprised expression. He didn’t expect that. Put a check mark in my column.
There’s no way he’s winning his bet. But, if he plays his cards right, I might help him lose my bet.
The thought has my lower belly tightening as sweat forms at the nape of my neck.
He hesitates for only a moment before his lips softly brush against mine. My breath hitches and a nervous shiver runs through my body, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I angle my face to give him better access and he wastes no time taking complete advantage.
He kisses me harder, testing, tasting. It’s slow and sensual and honestly, makes me feel a way I shouldn’t feel in a stadium full of thousands of other people. My pulse quickens. My body aches. And every single thought I had about hating Harris Avery flies right out the window.
“Get a room.” The voice yelling at us from behind snaps me out of my fog and I quickly pull away, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“You’re a goner,” Harris tells me, reading my expression.
“Am I?” I quip, pulling my mask back into place, determined not to let him see just how much that kiss affected me. “Because from where I’m sitting, I think you’re the one in trouble.”
“I guess it’s all about perspective.” He grins the same boyish grin as before and my hard exterior melts a little at the sight.
God, I’m so back and forth with this man. I have spent a total of a few hours with him, and yet I’m already questioning everything I thought I knew. Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy after all.
Or maybe he’s baiting you because he’s trying to win a bet.
Yeah, that’s definitely not going to happen...
