Page 54 of Tempting the Player
“Make that two cherry sodas, then.”
As they waited, Chase let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Turning so that his body blocked most of hers, he bent his head and whispered, “They’ll get bored with us soon enough.”
Grateful he was blocking most of the stare-mongers and even a few who were snapping pics on their phones, she turned her face toward his chest. God, he smelled great. Spice and pure male.
Once they got their popcorn and headed toward some action movie, they were stopped for an autograph. Chad handled it gracefully and then there was another autograph. She thought they might get mobbed inside the room but was shocked to discover that hardly anyone was at the showing.
Chad stopped at the back row, letting her squeeze past him. She picked a seat in the middle and sat, helping him with the sodas.
The previews—her favorite part of going to the movies—started seconds later, but as soon as the movie started and stuff was blowing up left and right, her attention wandered…right to the man sitting beside her.
He was watching the movie—at least that’s what it looked like to her. In the shadowy theatre, his profile was starkly defined, really a work of art. There was no wonder he was voted sexiest man alive.
Tight coils sprung in her belly as her gaze drifted over his cheekbones and lips. His shoulders were wide—
“You’re staring at me,” he said gruffly.
“No. I’m not.” She popped a kernel into her mouth. “Your imagination.”
He cast a sidelong glance her way. “Terrible liar.”
“You’re not watching the movie, either,” she pointed out and snuck another handful of popcorn.
His lips curled up on one corner as he leaned over so his arm was pressed against hers. Lowering his head to her ear, he moved the popcorn to her lap. “Well, there is something more interesting going on.”
Bridget turned to him and gasped when her lips brushed his chin. Neither of them moved for a few seconds, and then his lips were on hers. No other warning. The kiss was long and deep.
“You taste like butter,” he groaned against her lips, and she flushed. “I like it.”
She placed a hand on his chest, to push him away or pull him forward she wasn’t sure, but then he kissed her once more. Her body—her entire being—was so caught up in the way his lips tasted her and how his hand gripped her shoulder, his fingers flexing like he wanted to move them elsewhere but didn’t, and damn if she didn’t want to arch her back, showing him just exactly where she wanted him to touch her.
This was insane.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched her face for something.
“We shouldn’t be doing that kind of stuff,” she whispered, dazed. “No one is looking…”
His eyes were latched onto hers. “I know, but I wanted to and I pretty much do what I want.” Smiling, he turned back to the screen. Someone was chasing someone. “This is a damn good movie.”
“Yeah,” she breathed unsteadily. “It’s a very good movie.”
But what was going to happen when the movie ended… Bridget shivered, seriously doubting her self-control for the umpteenth time that night.
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday night was supposed to be like a slumber party. Not that Chad had ever had a slumber party in his entire life, since the last time he checked in his pants he was a dude. But that’s what Miss Gore said tonight would be like.
They did a late dinner at Tony’s and Tony’s, an Italian-style restaurant Bridget had been convinced was run by the mob. That made Chad laugh before he’d accused her of her Irish blood showing through.
The dinner was good. After a little while, Bridget relaxed and she seemed to be handling the attention a bit better, but every time someone would approach their table, she would grow very still or dip her chin forward, using her hair to shield her face.
He couldn’t figure that out. Bridget was a total babe. Guys were checking her out when they came in the restaurant. One guy was staring at her like she was the finest piece of steak, and that hadn’t made Chad all happy, happy, joy, joy, either.
Which was really strange, he realized as he took care of the check. Normally, he didn’t give two shits about guys checking out his dates.
“Thanks,” he said, handing over the signed check to the waiter. “You ready?”
Bridget picked up her clutch and stood, and hot damn, he wasn’t a big fan of the turtleneck thing she had going on, but he loved how the skirt clung to her legs, and those peekaboo-fuck-me heels were all right in his book, too.
