Page 78 of Falling for Her

“The way you ride, one thousand percent.” She rolls her eyes. “But if you ride the way everyone else rides, it’s fine if you take him back.”

She snorts. “You know the saying, ‘Better to ask for forgiveness than permission’?” She scrunches up her nose. “That’s what I’m going with.”

“You would go with that.” I look over at her but don’t say anything else because I’m afraid of what I’d say.

“I need a shower,” she announces as we pull into the driveway. I have to bite down on my tongue as we get out, immediately picturing her in said shower. “Do you think I could go back to my place?”

“No. They’ll be here tomorrow to put in the cameras and stuff. But until then, I’d prefer you stay in the house.”

She walks up the steps in front of me, and my eyes go to her ass. “Fine,” she huffs out, “but I think it’s a waste.”

“Humor me.”

“I want to do a lot of things to you,” she retorts, “and humoring you isn’t one of them.” My body freezes, and my cock goes solid.

On the porch, she kicks off her sneakers, which are pretty much ruined, and goes inside.

“Yeah, I want to do a lot of things to you too,” I counter, closing the front door behind me.

She stops at the stairs, and her eyes meet mine. “Really? And what would those things be?”

“How about I take a shower, and you take a shower.” Together, I almost add, but I stop myself. “Then we can order pizza and compare lists of what we would do to each other.”

“That sounds like a chill evening,” she says, and I roll my eyes. “Sunday Funday at its best.” She starts up the steps. “I can’t wait.”

When I hear the bathroom door close, I look down at my cock. “It’s not going to happen, buddy. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to be firm on this. She’s not for you. You are not for her.” My cock just gets harder when it hears the shower running. “Stop thinking about her naked.”

I run my hands over my face. “You are getting a shower”—I march up the steps—“an ice-cold shower.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

FINLEY

I slip into a dark-blue lace bra with little red flowers and matching panties, then put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I brush out my wet hair, and when I open the bathroom door, I see Lincoln’s bedroom door is open, and there is noise coming from the kitchen. My stomach is doing all sorts of things I’ve never felt before.

When I join him in the kitchen, I of course notice his bare chest right away. My eyes roam up, not down, since the counter unfortunately blocks my view. His eyes meet mine. “I ordered pizza. It should be here any minute.”

“How long was I in the shower?”

He chuckles. “I ordered it before I went in the shower. Do you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I pull out a stool and sit down. He takes two beers out of the fridge, twisting one open and handing it to me before twisting his own.

“To being played.” He holds up his beer bottle.

“Who played you?” I’m not sure I want to cheers to that. He tilts his head to the side, looking straight at me, his expression slightly amused. “How did I play you?” I ask.

“You left a few things out when I interviewed you.”

“To not asking the right questions,” I say, holding up my bottle for a toast. He glares but clinks my bottle. I take a pull. The cold hits my tongue right away, followed by the bubbles. “That’s good.”

“I didn’t think you would drink a beer.”

I put my bottle down as he takes another sip of his own. “And why is that?”

“You won a silver medal and you, from what I heard⁠—”

“Oh, so you’re listening to tales. You know, you should only believe a third of what people say.”