Page 36 of Off the Mark
So muchheat. She shivered against me.
“Still okay?”
“Totally.”
I did it again, tracing a series of circles for no other reason than the fact that I suspected she liked it.
“Do you touch all the women you date this much in public?” she asked, voice a little shaky.
I clicked my tongue. “I’m your boyfriend now, Charlie. I would hope that any man you dated before me touched you like this, long as you wanted him to. And if he didn’t, he was a fucking fool.”
Her throat worked, gaze dropping to my mouth again. “Don’t you meanpretendboyfriend?”
I increased the pressure of my knees against her hips. “But didn’t I say I’d give it my all?”
With gentle pressure, I nudged her a little closer and threaded the fingers of my free hand through hers, squeezing. “You can touch me too. If you want.”
“Oh joy, dreams really do come true,” she drawled, making me grin. But her hand slid down my arm, pausing at my bicep. I flexed, hoping to make her laugh. It worked, and the sound skated across my skin like sunshine. “How will I ever focus again now that I know the elite privilege of touching Rowan O’Callaghan’s arm muscles?”
“That’s the cost of fake dating your hottest friend, remember?” I murmured at her ear. This close, I watched her skin erupt in goosebumps. Felt, more than saw, the pleasure in her response. Her one hand palmed my shoulder, then back to my bicep again. Then my forearms, her fingers stroking across my palm. Back and forth, like she was intrigued.
I let her explore, even as lust coiled in my belly.
Even as the urge to kiss her was verging on unbearable.
“This was a good idea. Getting used to one another so we don’t look…awkward,” she said, sounding dazed. Her other hand was on my knee now, gliding up my thigh. I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth.
“Yeah,” I managed. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Her hand slid up my thigh another inch. “It has to seem realistic.”
That same strand of hair had come undone, and I tucked it back behind her ear without thinking. Let my hand travel to the long, thick weight of her braid. I tugged on the end with an indulgent smile.
Charlie was staring at my mouth again.
“It doesn’t seem like we’re gonna have a problem convincing people it’s real,” I whispered.
Her eyes flew to mine, widening slightly. Her blush deepened, lips parting.
From behind us, a very drunk man yelled, “Yo, Romeo and Juliet. You’re blocking my view of the goddamn game.”
Charlie—suddenly scowling—ducked her head past my shoulder. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up about it?”
The response was a slurred, “Who asked you, bitch?”
I twisted at the waist, extended an arm. “Hey hey. Knock it off, pal. That’s my girl you’re talking to.”
The guy looked me over. Frowned. Then went back to drinking. My best friend was the intimidating former boxer, not me. But I was still an ex-athlete, bigger than everyone in here, and I didn’t mind using that to my advantage for this one moment.
When I turned back, Charlie was clearly fighting a smile. “Did you call meyour girl?”
“I’m trying to be a suitable boyfriend for you, okay?” I teased.
“It’s better than babe, at least.”
“See? I’m already improving.” I cocked a thumb over my shoulder. “A drunk guy yelling at us in a bar is basically the Philly stamp of approval, even out here in the ’burbs. We’re golden now.”
Charlie leaned an elbow against the bar. “In what way are we golden?”
