Page 112 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“And here I would’ve guessed baseball.”
“Baseball is a strong second.” The carpet mutes our steps as I guide her through the doorway. It’s empty in here, probably because this time of night draws an older bar-loving crowd.
As promised, I take her to the machine and swipe my credit card.
She props herself against the side, arms crossed as she watches me fail the first time with a soft smile. The sleeves of her white summer shirt hang off her shoulders. “You’re cute when you’re concentrating. All hawkeyed.”
“All part of my strategy,” I say as I miss the first attempt. “Now stop distracting me.”
Her melodic laugh competes with the music playing on a loop from the Space Galaxy pinball machine. “I’m just standing here.”
“Exactly.”
I swipe my card again. The claw drops down and I fail a second time.
On the fourth try, when I’m starting to sweat, the metal hand clasps a yellow duck. The hold doesn’t appear solid, but it’s just enough of a cradle to carry it to the chute.
I pump my fist in the air.
She squeals. “You got it!”
“Easy,” I lie as I grab it from the machine. “A duck for the lady.”
She launches herself at me, flinging her arms around my neck. I lose my footing at her enthusiasm and the claw machine catches my fall. We’re laughing until our smiles press together and fade into a slow, deep kiss. My body gets all sorts of ideas when she nips my bottom lip.
“Mmm. You really like ducks,” I murmur against her lips.
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I really like men who win me ducks. Now kiss me like you mean it.”
I take a look around the arcade then guide us a foot sideways, nestling us between the claw machine and a photo booth with her back against the wall. I take her duck and set it on top of the claw machine for safekeeping before our mouths collide again. Her lips are an urgent promise against mine. She opens for me, letting me taste and savor. Letting me take it farther and deeper than I normally would when someone could walk past.
I trace the soft fringe of her jean skirt, then slip my hand underneath to grip the outside of her thigh, lifting her leg just enough that I can better fit against her. The denim inches higher as she moves, and damn do I want to drop to my knees and see what I might’ve revealed, but I’m not done with her mouth yet. Might never be.
When we come up for air, my fingers thread through hers and I pull her off the wall. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are wet from me, or maybe her lip gloss.
“Come here. I want a picture of you like this.” I navigate around the machine, open the heavy black curtain, and usher her inside with a hand to her back. My fingers brush the sliver of exposed skin beneath the hem of her top.
I step in behind her and whip the curtain shut. It goes all the way to the floor, giving us the dangerous illusion of privacy. The only light is the glow of the computer screen that shows us our options for purchase.
I sit on the bench and guide her onto my lap. My hands dig into her hips as her back falls flush with my chest. Her body is so warm and inviting.
“Set it up,” I murmur in her ear.
Her voice is already drowsy with want as she presses her ass into me. “Huh?”
“I meant what I said. I want a picture of you.”
“Can’t we just—”
My teeth graze her earlobe as I grab my credit card and place it in her hand. “Please?”
She leans forward to slide it in the reader. As she presses a few buttons on the screen, I run a hand down her back, applying light pressure, and then hike her skirt up around her waist.
But I’ll behave. If this counts as behaving.
Her gasp of surprise pulls a dark laugh from my mouth. “You thought kissing you against a wall would be enough?” My hand moves down over bare skin. I’ve never felt the compulsion to spank anything until I glimpsed her ass in the bikini back at the lake, and the impulse only grows stronger.
“But the pictures—”
