“I’ve got the same eyes as Ryder.”
“No, yours are softer.”
He raised a single eyebrow at her before lining up his shot. “Guys don’t like hearing they look ‘softer.’”
Again, that rich laugh vibrated deep into his bones. “As in, yours are meltier. His make a person feel judged. Yours are ocean deep and pull me in like the calm center of a storm.”
Uh-oh.Completely missing the cue ball this time, he tried to close his gaping jaw. Perhaps the view down her top wasn’t accidental.
She didn’t seem drunk.
What happened to the goofy woman at the skating rink? Or the sweet woman grooming the horse? The prim and proper one at dinner? The shy one that kissed him?
This was the vixen of the mix... had to say, he couldn’t come up with any objections to this version of her. Maybe he would tomorrow. But for the moment... maybe it was time to fight for her.
With a deep breath to calm the lurching stampede in his chest, he stepped back and took his next shot. Not as bad this time. “We’re a little dysfunctional, that’s for sure. What about your family?”
Leaned back against the table, she shrugged. “My family’s pretty awesome. I have two younger brothers that are the best. My parents are supportive. They’ll love Foothills.”
“You seem to like Foothills pretty well. Ryder hates it. How is that going to work?”
“I’m staying.”
Shit, if she and Ryder settled in Foothills, he’d be miserable every damn day, rather than being tortured only for their biennial visit. He’d have to emigrate.
He glanced over at her again, her eyes heated and lips looking particularly lush in a serious fuck-me expression as she stepped closer.
Yeah, she could be persuasive and would get what she wanted.
“Claire? I...”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”Don’t be a dumbass. Fight this time. He hesitated, then held out the cue.
Claire moved to take her shot. Grady bit down on his tongue, struggling to shift his attentionanywhere else. Her dress inched up as she bent forward, her posture enticing him to pay attention. He couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it. If she were his, he’d slide that dress up another few inches...
Crack. She nailed the next shot and stood up straight. View gone, he was able to tear his eyes away and shifted his body so she wouldn’t see his physical reaction. He lined up his shot and focused on the game.
Leaned against the table next to him, she was waiting when he stood tall. Her eyes weren’t releasing his. Her intentions were loud and clear. “I fell for you the moment you caught me on the ice. How you came to my rescue, and you laughed with me.”
Later, he’d blame the concussion from the fight that morning. Or his determination to stand up and fight for the woman he wanted. In the morning, he’d have a serious talk with his brother. And apologize.
For now, he was foolishly caught up in the moment. That knowing that turned Asher into the sap he’d become, that left Zane foolishly watching his wife when he thought no one was looking.
He tossed the pool cue onto the table behind her and wrapped his arm around her, splaying his hand across the small of her back. Lost in those mysterious hazel eyes, he waited for her to object. To kick him in the nuts and tell him she was off limits.
“Don’t marry my brother.”
“We were never even engaged.” She clutched his shirt in both hands and held him snug against her. Those lush lips were soft and pliant against his. Grazing his tongue along her plump lower lip, he teased her mouth to open for him.
Incredibly responsive, the velvet of her tongue rubbed along his, meeting him stroke for stroke. Her hands shifted and clutched at his waist. He pulled her closer, so her breasts were pressed tight against him as he devoured her.
Shifting, he tasted his way down her jawline, nipped her earlobe, nibbled the side of her neck and shoulder.
Hands busy, she tugged at his shirt and teased her fingertips under the cotton, caressing the bare skin of his abdomen, gripping his waist.
Breathless, she murmured, “Please tell me I’m making the right choice. I want you.”
