Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,41

tips 1 through 17, mixing it up to keep things fresh. Figure out what works and what can’t really be adapted for my purposes.

Tip 6. Nope.

Tip 12. Never.

Tip 13… Hello, little stutter Harlow just gave up followed by the breathy sound of my name. While we’re alone in the kitchen. Yeah, this isn’t for a crowd.

Riding my high of success, I pull out Dina’s signature move. Tip 3.

Hooking my thumb in the pocket of my jeans, I lean back against the counter and go for it. Cocking my free arm behind my head, I stretch. Hard.

It actually feels pretty good and I’d bet I do some porn-free version of it without thinking twenty times a day. Just not while I’m subtly nudging my jeans down and arching enough to ensure I flash my happy trail when my T-shirt rides up.

Yeah, I’m that guy.

I’d be ashamed except it’s hard to be humiliated when Harlow does that double take, her eyes snaring on the stretch of skin I’m “accidentally” showing off.

I’ve got that hard-cut vee thing going and the accompanying eight-pack because I’m fit as fuck and work my ass off for my career. But it’s nice to see it paying off in other areas of my life as well.

Confident my jeans are low enough, I pull my hand from my pocket and go for the gold, adding a modified Tip 7 and doing this lazy, totally calculated back-and-forth rub across my abs. In its purest form, one would run their fingers over the swells of their tits. I’ve seen this one in action plenty of times and it’s another move that gets results.

Jackpot!

Harlow’s mouth drops open to a gratifying degree.

I give my ego a mental fist bump. We’re blowing it up when I see the change.

She blinks. Lets out this delicate noise that’s something between a laugh and cough. And then her eyes narrow as they coast up my chest, past the whole tight T-shirt show, to where they lock with mine.

“Wade.”

Uh-Oh. That was not her nice “Wade.”

My arm is down in a flash and then my arms are crossing. Shit. Is that a breeze down south?

Worried I’m not only busted, but worse, I look like some toddler with my shirt riding up my belly, I unravel my arms, smooth it down, and adjust my jeans.

“Yep?”

“Can I speak to you a moment. In private.”

Considering we’re standing alone in Janie’s mom’s kitchen, I’m assuming private means really private, where no one will accidentally walk in on us and hear my fake girlfriend reaming my ass out for violating the boundaries of our fake relationship.

Chapter 16

Wade

My gut feels like a bucket of pucks just landed in it as I cross to the screen door off the back of the kitchen and hold it open for Harlow.

Their backyard isn’t as open as my folks’. There’s a small stone terrace with a charcoal grill and a round table that seats two facing the wooded path leading down to the lake and their dock.

This has always been a happy place for me. Lots of fun memories.

Damn it, I don’t want this to be where it all ends.

“Someone might come around the side,” she says, and I nod, taking her hand.

“Let’s walk down to the water.” Only halfway there, I change my mind, stopping at the small boathouse built off to the side of the path.

It’s set into an area that’s been cleared of trees and offers a rustic bench made of driftwood where we’d line up for Janie’s mom to put on our sunscreen when we were kids.

As privacy goes, this is about as good as it gets. Something Harlow seems to have picked up on herself. Of course she did, because there isn’t much she misses.

I’m such an ass.

I expect Harlow to sit, but instead she turns on me, eyes flashing, her finger pointed in accusation.

“What’s up?” I ask, underscoring the dumb in dumb jock.

There’s a kind of energy coming off her that has a dangerous vibe to it. Dangerous and tempting.

One shapely brow wings up. “That’s how you want to play it?”

She takes a step closer, and I swear the air around her starts to pulse. I’m half expecting her hair to levitate in dark ribbons around her face.

It’s hot.

And suddenly, I’m not worried about how pissed she is. I want it. I want her to fight. I want her to lay into me for real.

“What do you want me to say, Harlow? That one night was enough? It wasn’t. That I’ve been trying