The Matchmaker's Playbook
was thoughtful. “Not stupid, just misinformed. The last thing a guy wants to do after he works out is flirt with a girl. Now, beforehand? Even during? No problem. Adrenaline pumps during workouts, and if a hot chick’s watching, you better believe the entire hour’s going to be eye-screwing.”
    “You said hot chick.” Blake shrugged. “Not cute.”
    “You’re hot,” I grumbled. “Believe me. Just wear one of the outfits we picked out, alright?”
    She nodded, her chest puffing up slightly. I itched to unzip the hoodie. Five seconds, that’s all I needed, maybe six, then I’d walk out of the room and leave her to it.
    “Right.” I removed my hands from hers. “So when he sees us together, we need to flirt. The issue is that you flinch most of the time when I touch you.”
    “I do not!”
    I cupped her face. She flinched, and then her eye twitched. “I’m touching your face, not spitting on your eye there, sweet cheeks.”
    Her teeth clenched.
    “Good.” I nodded. “That look right there, the very pissed-off one you’re giving me? It’s often confused with lust. So maybe I’ll just piss you off the entire workout. Shouldn’t be hard, just imagine me heckling you the entire time. In fact, imagine me staring at your ass and tits the entire time. Because I guarantee you, that will be happening. Ninety minutes in heaven. Can you believe I get paid for this shit?” I was goading her on purpose, even though I probably would be staring at her. Who wouldn’t?
    Her chest heaved as she pushed against me. I used the weight of the push to pull her back on top of me. “Now”—I looked at our bodies as they pressed together—“say this happens tomorrow. What do you do?”
    “Get off.” Blake tried to wiggle away. I locked my legs behind her.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s incorrect.” I tugged my ankles against her ass, forcing her against my chest. “Next question. If we’re this close, do you fight, or give in?”
    She was strong. I’d give her that. Blake tried to buck away from me, her hands dangerously close to my face.
    “Fight.” Her lips nearly brushed mine. It was painful when she didn’t break the rest of the distance. The lust I was feeling for her was so unnatural I didn’t know what to do with it, so I tucked it away.
    “Wrong.” I grinned, flipping her onto her back and pinning her arms above her head. “Body language is everything. You don’t want to appear too pissed at me, but you don’t want to be meek either. Right now you’re doing a good job balancing both of them. If things start going south, I may need to kiss you, and I need to know that if I do you aren’t going to knee me in the balls or scratch my eyes out.”
    “I may.” Her teeth clenched as her eyes lowered toward the goods. A smug smile crossed her features. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
    “Don’t play a player,” I instructed smugly. “It never works, sweet cheeks.”
    “Why are you calling me ‘sweet cheeks’?”
    I released her wrist and moved my hand down her side to her bare thigh, then very slowly inched my fingers around until I came into contact with one butt cheek. “Sweet cheeks.”
    Rage crossed her features as she let out a little bellow and tried getting from underneath me.
    “Lesson’s not over.” I pressed my body harder against hers. “If I kiss you, you don’t have to kiss me back, but don’t push me away. Just let it happen.”
    “Why does it matter?”
    “Because.” My position was starting to make my body ache in more ways than one. “If he sees us as too happy, he won’t think he has a chance. If we’re fighting, he’ll think you’re a bad lay, or worse yet, he’ll think you’re dramatic. We need the perfect medium. Just let it happen, and try not to lose your shit when you feel my tongue.”
    “Is that necessary?” she asked, voice desperate.
    “Not at all.” I grinned.
    “I think lesson time’s over.” Blake glared.
    “Great.” I jumped off of her

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