Page 37 of Checking It Twice
That’s a lie. Right now, with the scent of her perfume and the memory of how she feels against me, biting seems like a very real possibility.
Biting.
Nibbling.
Licking.
Maybe some light sucking.
She settles onto my lap with careful precision, trying to keep contact minimal. Her back is straight, her weight distributed so she’s barely touching me, and it’s the most torturous attempt at propriety I’ve ever experienced.
“Relax,” I murmur close to her ear, my hands coming up to rest lightly on her waist. “You’re sitting like you’re at a job interview.”
“This is relaxed,” she whispers back.
“This is you about to fall off my lap.”
She shifts slightly, and the movement sends heat racing through my bloodstream. The soft curve of her ass settles more fully against my thighs, and I have to bite back a groan.
This is going to be a long night.
The game starts, and I try to focus on property acquisition instead of the way Clare leans forward to reach for the dice, the way her hair smells like something floral that makes all my blood threaten to retreat south. I try to ignore the way her body moves against mine with every gesture, every laugh, every unconscious adjustment of position.
I’m failing spectacularly.
“Your move, Mitchell,” Dad says, and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at the board for the past thirty seconds.
“Right. Yeah.” I reach for the dice, and Clare leans back into me to give me space. The contact sends sparks shooting down my spine.
I roll, move my piece, and try to think about anything other than the woman in my lap and how badly I want to slide my hands higher, to find out if her skin is as soft as it looks.
“You’re distracted tonight, Mitchy,” Clare says, glancing back at me with those intelligent dark eyes.
The nickname hits like a sucker punch. Mitchy. The way she says it—affectionate, teasing, intimate—it gets to me. My jackass teammates call me that all the time, but hearing it in her voice, soft and playful, does dangerous things to my self-control.
“Am I?” I manage to say.
“Mmm.” She settles back against my chest, the movement completely innocent and absolutely devastating. “What’s got you so unfocused?”
Everything. The way she fits against me like she was made for it. The soft sound she makes when she laughs at Maddie’s terrible trash talk. The way her fingers brush mine when she reaches for the dice.
The growing certainty that this fake relationship is threatening to kill me with every passing hour.
“Can’t imagine,” I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She wiggles slightly, adjusting her position, and I bite back a curse. The innocent movement sends blood rushing south, and I’m suddenly very grateful for the table hiding the evidence of exactly how much she’s affecting me.
“Stop moving,” I mutter against her ear.
“I’m just getting comfortable.”
“Well, don’t. Get comfortable later.”
She turns her head to look at me, eyebrows raised in question, and the movement brings her mouth dangerously close to mine. Close enough that I can see the golden flecks in her dark eyes, close enough to feel her breath against my lips.
“Mitchell,” Evan’s voice cuts through the moment, loaded with amusement. “You’re looking a little... tense there, brother.”
I glance up to find him grinning at me with a look of evil satisfaction only older brothers can master. He knows exactly what’s happening here, exactly how much I’m struggling to maintain any semblance of control.
