God, she was cute.

“No. It was a training bout. I was green, full of piss and vinegar and wanting to prove it.” I chuckled. “It was my dad.”

Her lips parted. “Your dad punched you?”

“He had to. He was my trainer.” A pang of loss seared my heart. “Besides, he was teaching me a lesson. Next time, keep your guard up.”

In the face of her stunned silence, I shrugged. “It was a good lesson. Never got knocked out again.”

The glossy strands of her ponytail swayed as she shook her head. “Boxers are a breed apart.”

She said it with admiration. I could almost imagine she was looking at me with admiration. But that was probably wishful thinking on my part.

“Yes, we are.” I couldn’t help but ease closer. All night, we’d been touching. Nothing sexual. Simple light touches. Fingers skimming over hands, fleeting strokes along forearms, and quick press of a hand to a shoulder.

At first, we’d gone at it like the assignment it was, making a concerted effort to remember. But as dinner wore on, it became easier, natural. And while those touches had been completely PG, nothing more than what you’d expect a middle school kid to do, it had been sexy as hell.

Touching Parker while knowing it wouldn’t go further than that had gotten me so worked up, I was now aware of the smallest move she made. The woman would inhale and I’d be waiting to hear her exhale.

Firelight and the glow from the loft’s windows painted her skin in golds and oranges, highlighting the sweet curve of her cheek, the little pout of her lower lip. I liked her this way, all soft and easy and looking at me as though I was someone she wanted to know.

I touched a strand of her hair with the tip of my finger. “Tell me something.”

“Hmm?” She stayed languid, her head resting in her hand.

“You actually looking to hire a stripper or is it just a sexual fantasy you need help acting out?” Because I had to know what the hell that text had been about.

Parker’s eyes widened, then she blinked and laughed. I loved the way she laughed—light and carefree, her cheeks plumping and her eyes crinkling deeply at the corners.

“I totally forgot I’d texted you that.” Her hand landed softly on my thigh. I doubted she was even aware of doing it. But I was. I so fucking was. She smiled up at me. “My sister is getting married, and I’m in charge of the bachelorette.”

“Which of course needs strippers.” The thought of Parker and her uptown friends squealing over gym-toned, oiled-up guys gyrating in thongs had me grinning. Part of me couldn’t imagine her letting loose like that, but I wanted to see it happen—although preferably with me first.

I pushed lustful thoughts of Parker watching me strip firmly away. But I couldn’t stop staring at her. Under the string lights, she was all shadows, curves, and shining eyes.

“Honestly, my mother would probably die of embarrassment if we went through with it. Which is, admittedly, an incentive for my sister.” She laughed again, and the sound struck me right in the chest.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.” The words came out in a husky rush. I shouldn’t have said them. But she stopped and stared, her lips parting as though I’d pleased her, and I couldn’t regret what I’d said.

Everything slowed down and the air thickened. My body grew heavy with need. She was so damned pretty. I wanted to touch that smile, run my hands over her golden skin.

Her gaze slid to my mouth, and my lower abs clenched tight. With a hitch to her breath, she spoke. “We should kiss now.”

God, yes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you. I’ll learn every sweet inch of your mouth. Kiss you till it hurts to stop.

The words nearly left my mouth, when my sex-hazed brain finally cleared and that small, sensible, sane part of me hit the brakes hard and fast.

Kiss her? Shit. Fucking shit. I couldn’t kiss this woman. Not when I was so worked up I’d fall on her like a starved man.

Faced with my deer-in-the-headlights silence, Parker frowned. “That is… I mean, I thought we were supposed to…” I didn’t need brighter lighting to know she was blushing.

“Hey.” I reached out to cup her cheek but stopped halfway, my hand hovering there, making everything worse. My fingers curled into a fist and I dropped it to my thigh. “You’re right. We should. We were. Supposed to, that is.”

Fuck. I was sweating again.

She sucked in a sharp breath, bracing herself, and her gaze turned steely. “Let’s just get it over with.”

It wasn’t the most flattering statement. Which was good. This was a job. A job. I repeated the fact as I moved closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulder to draw her up against me. Later, I’d be laughing my ass off at myself. I wasn’t this guy, freaking out over the prospect of a simple kiss. A fake one at that.

But Parker was right; being alone made it more.

Parker pressed a hand against my chest—to brace herself or hold me at bay, I didn’t know. My mind was fuddled, spinning around like I’d taken a solid hit to the chin.

God, she was tiny. Delicate. Fragile. The back of her head fit perfectly in the well of my palm.

For a second, I didn’t know what to do. One wrong move, and I’d crush her. I’d been forged to be a fighter. Brutal strength was my weapon. It didn’t feel like an advantage at the moment. I felt like a bumbling oaf.

Parker let out a soft breath as her gaze searched my face. She was clearly waiting for me to make the first move.

I can do this. I can do this. It’s nothing big. A kiss. Done it plenty of times. I can keep it neutral.

We moved at the same time, Parker lifting her face to mine as I ducked my head. Our lips met in the softest kiss I’d ever had. I felt the plush give of her lips, tasted a whisper of the white wine she’d drank. The sweetness of the way she kissed—so very shy but curious—punched right through my chest and squeezed.

I swear the floor tilted.

But she was pulling back, a furrow of concentration forming between her brows. “There,” she said.

There?

My lips throbbed. I stared at her mouth and wanted more. I wanted back there. Now.

Through my haze, I heard her talking in that efficient Little Miss Priss voice. “One more thing crossed off the list.”

I blinked, trying to focus. It was difficult; her mouth held all my attention. “Sorry?”

Soft pink lips pursed. “That was good enough, right?”

A laugh tumbled about in my chest. Good enough? Not by half. I shook myself out of the stupid lust fog that had invaded my brain. She stared up at me, looking quite pleased with herself. She really should be; she’d almost wrecked me with one brief kiss.

Damn it. I needed to get my head in the game. Play my part. I needed to feel her mouth again. Oh, how I needed.

“Nope.”

Her nose wrinkled as her eyes narrowed. “No? What do you mean no? We kissed, didn’t we?”

The way she kept asking questions, I had to smile. It was like she wanted me to argue. I was more than willing to do that.

“That wasn’t a kiss, sweetheart.”

Hot color licked over her cheeks. “It was so.”

“It was a little peck on the lips. I barely felt it.” I eyed her in mock suspicion. “Is that how you kiss guys you’re with? Because, if so—” I broke off, shaking my head sadly.