the gathered material? She’d never been more aware of fabric in her life. Or how much she wished it wasn’t there.
Gathering her courage around her, hoping it came off as confidence, she made herself keep going. “You never kissed me before.”
He stopped breathing, nodding his head very slowly, that steady gaze of his not allowing her to look away. “But I wanted to.”
She pushed at his chest, only slightly discomfited when he didn’t budge. “You did not.”
“Remember that football game when I tackled you?”
Of course she did. A girl didn’t forget the first time a man settled between her thighs. She’d been dropped on a bed of clover, the solid feel of him imprinted from breast to toe, practically. Time had stopped as they’d stared at each other in breathless shock.
Seven seconds in heaven.
She’d replayed that moment at least a million times in her mind. The way his gaze had dropped to her lips for the barest millisecond before Locke had stomped over and demanded the football back. The way he’d felt, his long form sliding down hers before he got to his feet. Even the subtle touch of his hand as he’d helped her up. When she remembered it, alone in her room, she erased the glowering older brother and replaced him with a tree. It made for a much better daydream.
“That wasn’t even the first time,” he murmured, eying her lips until they tingled. Eyed, but he didn’t touch. Shouldn’t he be touching them? With his tongue? “I can’t tell you how rough it can be when your best friends’ little sister is a knockout.”
Okay, now she knew he was yanking her chain. She stepped back, steadily, thank you very much. “What are you up to?”
“Why do I have to be up to something?”
She rolled her eyes.
Cole sighed like a put-upon male. “I was a sixteen-year-old walking hormone when I met you. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but pretty blondes with long legs and soft mouths have a way of making teenage boys embarrass themselves.”
As if he had any idea what it was like to embarrass himself.
“You were strictly off limits too,” he reminded. “Especially to me.”
Another non-lie, she decided. Locke would have pulled Cole’s intestines out through his nose if he’d tried to take advantage of his access to her, to say nothing of what the elder twins might have done to him. But suspicion kept her narrowed gaze on him.
“So what happened in the last seventy-two hours to change my off-limits status?” Let him try to answer that one honestly.
“Two things, actually.” He cleared his throat and leaned against the waiting rail, where opponents were supposed to wait their turn at the tee. “The first one was holding your hand at the dinner table.”
“My hand.” A hand he’d touched any number of times over the years. A hand that had never done a single thing for him before. She was so tempted to believe him, but how could she, knowing Locke was behind every word?
Cole nodded, following her up onto a mound of fake grass, right back into her personal space. Did he know he was making the oxygen thin when he did that? How was she supposed to think with him so close? She edged away.
“I liked holding it.” He took another step closer, all but daring her to keep retreating. Was he enjoying his little stalking game?
Just the thought that he’d somehow turned the tables on her had her locking her knees and standing her ground. Let him invade. She wasn’t about to take another step backward. “You liked it?”
He nodded. Innocently. Bad sign. Bad. Sign. “A lot.”
Liar. “And the other thing that has you looking at me so differently?”
He smiled, those white teeth of his definitely predatory. “Something about a woman in her underwear, tossing me around like a Frisbee, gets me every time.”
“Now you’re a closet masochist?”
He leaned down to her ear. “What can I say, I like a woman who can kick my ass.”
She was about to, if he kept this up. Either
Gathering her courage around her, hoping it came off as confidence, she made herself keep going. “You never kissed me before.”
He stopped breathing, nodding his head very slowly, that steady gaze of his not allowing her to look away. “But I wanted to.”
She pushed at his chest, only slightly discomfited when he didn’t budge. “You did not.”
“Remember that football game when I tackled you?”
Of course she did. A girl didn’t forget the first time a man settled between her thighs. She’d been dropped on a bed of clover, the solid feel of him imprinted from breast to toe, practically. Time had stopped as they’d stared at each other in breathless shock.
Seven seconds in heaven.
She’d replayed that moment at least a million times in her mind. The way his gaze had dropped to her lips for the barest millisecond before Locke had stomped over and demanded the football back. The way he’d felt, his long form sliding down hers before he got to his feet. Even the subtle touch of his hand as he’d helped her up. When she remembered it, alone in her room, she erased the glowering older brother and replaced him with a tree. It made for a much better daydream.
“That wasn’t even the first time,” he murmured, eying her lips until they tingled. Eyed, but he didn’t touch. Shouldn’t he be touching them? With his tongue? “I can’t tell you how rough it can be when your best friends’ little sister is a knockout.”
Okay, now she knew he was yanking her chain. She stepped back, steadily, thank you very much. “What are you up to?”
“Why do I have to be up to something?”
She rolled her eyes.
Cole sighed like a put-upon male. “I was a sixteen-year-old walking hormone when I met you. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but pretty blondes with long legs and soft mouths have a way of making teenage boys embarrass themselves.”
As if he had any idea what it was like to embarrass himself.
“You were strictly off limits too,” he reminded. “Especially to me.”
Another non-lie, she decided. Locke would have pulled Cole’s intestines out through his nose if he’d tried to take advantage of his access to her, to say nothing of what the elder twins might have done to him. But suspicion kept her narrowed gaze on him.
“So what happened in the last seventy-two hours to change my off-limits status?” Let him try to answer that one honestly.
“Two things, actually.” He cleared his throat and leaned against the waiting rail, where opponents were supposed to wait their turn at the tee. “The first one was holding your hand at the dinner table.”
“My hand.” A hand he’d touched any number of times over the years. A hand that had never done a single thing for him before. She was so tempted to believe him, but how could she, knowing Locke was behind every word?
Cole nodded, following her up onto a mound of fake grass, right back into her personal space. Did he know he was making the oxygen thin when he did that? How was she supposed to think with him so close? She edged away.
“I liked holding it.” He took another step closer, all but daring her to keep retreating. Was he enjoying his little stalking game?
Just the thought that he’d somehow turned the tables on her had her locking her knees and standing her ground. Let him invade. She wasn’t about to take another step backward. “You liked it?”
He nodded. Innocently. Bad sign. Bad. Sign. “A lot.”
Liar. “And the other thing that has you looking at me so differently?”
He smiled, those white teeth of his definitely predatory. “Something about a woman in her underwear, tossing me around like a Frisbee, gets me every time.”
“Now you’re a closet masochist?”
He leaned down to her ear. “What can I say, I like a woman who can kick my ass.”
She was about to, if he kept this up. Either
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