“Mulder is a prick, and I don’t feel bad lying to him. Now turn around and bowl, Jakey. I want to check out your ass.”

My grin nearly breaks my face in half, and I’m grateful she can’t see it. For her benefit, I make a big production out of my turn, flexing my arms, stretching forward in a way that makes my ass stick out. I hear a choked noise from behind me. When I turn my head, there’s heat sizzling in Brenna’s dark eyes.

“You’re such a tease,” she accuses.

“I’m just bowling,” I say innocently.

“Uh-huh, sure you are.” She slides off the chair. “Man, is it hot in here?”

The next thing I know, she’s pulling her black long-sleeve shirt over her head, leaving her in a thin black camisole that clings to her perfect tits. I glimpse the lacy cups of her bra peeking out from the neckline, and my mouth goes completely dry. I return to the seating area and grab my beer. We’re both on our second beer, but there won’t be a third. I told the concessions kid to cut us off after two.

I gulp down the cold liquid as Brenna saunters to get a ball, her gait more seductive than ever. She tosses her long, glossy hair over one shoulder, spins around, and actually licks her lips.

Lord help me.

Her first throw knocks over seven pins.

“That’s your best yet!” Standing at the edge of the lane, I offer words of encouragement. “Go for the spare, Hottie. You’ve got this.”

“Really?” she says dubiously. “I haven’t bowled a single spare yet.”

“So? Doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

It doesn’t happen. Her second ball rolls into the gutter.

“You jinxed me,” she complains, trying to brush past me.

I hook an arm around her slender waist before she can escape. I want to tug her body against mine and kiss the hell out of her, but I settle for a chaste peck on the cheek.

“Did you just kiss my cheek?” she asks in amusement.

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?” I rest my hands above her ass, fighting the urge to move them lower. “Your ass looks amazing in these jeans, by the way.”

“I know. That’s why I wore them.”

I chuckle. My palms dip half an inch lower, but then I think, screw it. My back is to the other patrons, and nobody can see what my hands are doing, anyway. So I give her a nice, firm squeeze.

She makes a husky sound. “Dammit, Connelly, we’re in public.”

“So?”

“So you can’t go around squeezing my butt.”

“Why not?”

Brenna pauses. Several seconds tick by before she shrugs. “You know, I can’t think of a good enough reason.”

“Exactly.” Grinning, I squeeze those juicy ass cheeks again, then give them a light smack before going to take my next turn.

I don’t throw a strike this time. One stubborn pin insists on staying upright, but I knock it over on the second throw. Once again I’m crushing Brenna, and once again she doesn’t care. She makes definite progress, though, her second score nearly doubling her score from the first game. After the final numbers flicker on the screen, we sit on the bench and unwind for a bit.

I rest my hand on her thigh, absently stroking. She doesn’t push me away, but she does give me a contemplative look. “You’re a very handsy guy.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just unexpected. I didn’t think you’d be this affectionate.”

“Well, I am.” I shrug. “With chicks I like.”

“And how often do those come along? I thought we established you don’t do girlfriends, only hookups.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like the girls I hook up with.” I trace teasing circles on her knee. “Seems to me you don’t do boyfriends, either. Or if you do, it’s not public knowledge.”

“You been asking around about me, Jakey?”

“Yes,” I say bluntly. “And from what I hear, you haven’t dated anyone since you transferred to Briar.”

“I haven’t,” she confirms.

“Where did you go before Briar?”

“Community college in New Hampshire.”

“Did you date anyone there?”

“Not really. My college track record is mostly a string of meaningless hookups, at least until McCarthy.”

Jealousy pricks my chest. I don’t like that she doesn’t view McCarthy as meaningless. “So McCarthy wasn’t a hookup?” I ask carefully.

“A hookup is usually a one-time deal. Josh was more of a…” She mulls it over.

“Fuck buddy?” I fill in.

“Minus the fucking.”

Wait, what?

I set my beer on the table. Brenna officially has my undivided attention. “You didn’t have sex?” Surprise wrinkles my forehead. I just assumed they’d slept together.

“Nope.”

“But you fooled around.”

“Yup.”

“But no sex.”

She looks amused. “What part of this don’t you understand?”

“I don’t know…I guess it’s kind of weird to me.” I pause. “No, not kind of. It’s very weird to me.”

“Why is that weird?” She sounds a tad defensive.

I gesture toward her. “I mean, look at you. You’re smoking hot. Are you saying he didn’t try to…?”

“I never said he didn’t try. But…” She trails off again.

“But what? Are you a virgin?”

“No. I’m just picky about who I let inside me.”

Damned if that doesn’t make my dick hard. She’s not allowed to say things like “inside me,” because now I’m picturing being inside her, and I’m horny as hell.

“We did other stuff,” she says. “There’s always other stuff.”

“Is there?” My throat is full of gravel.

“What, no one’s ever told you that you can come without having sex?”

“Nah. I didn’t know that.” I blink with the utmost innocence. “Can you show me?”

Brenna punches my shoulder. Light and teasing. “You wish.”

“I do wish. I don’t want to alarm you, but please direct your attention to my crotch.”

Despite her amusement, she does what I ask. Instantly, her gaze sizzles. “Oh my. Thinking about McCarthy gets you hard?”

“Like stone.” I pull her onto my lap, eliciting a squeak of surprise.

But she recovers quickly, and soon she’s rubbing that sweet ass all over me as she tries to get comfortable. “Tell your boner to stop stabbing my butt,” she grumbles.

“Hey, you’re the reason I even have a boner.” I tug her head down so I can whisper in her ear. “You’re evil, talking about all the ways you can make a guy come without putting him inside you.”

Damn, she smells so good. I breathe in the scent of her shampoo, sweet with a mere trace of spice. Which is funny, because Brenna is the exact opposite—spicy, with a hint of sweetness. I like the spice, though. I like it a lot.

“What about you?” I ask her.

“What about me?”

“What did you get out of the McCarthy arrangement?”

She arches a brow. “You really want to know what your teammate did to me?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe in the broad sense,” I finally decide.

“Nah. I’ll leave it up to your imagination.”

And my imagination is running wild, except I’m not picturing Josh McCarthy in bed with her. I’m picturing myself.

“That thing is going to poke right through your pants,” she teases, and I feel a distinct sense of loss when she slides off my lap. “Anyway, what now? Want to play one more game before we take off?” She checks her phone “It’s ten. How long is this place open until?”

“I think eleven.”

“Should we close it down?”

“Might as well.”

Bowling with a stiffy isn’t the easiest task, but I manage. I beat her for a third time, and we return our shoes and pay for our lane.

Outside, Brenna bypasses her Jeep and walks to the Mercedes instead. “Unlock it,” she orders.

My pulse quickens. I unlock the car.

Rather than open either of the front doors, she settles in the backseat. “Get in here,” she says impishly.

I’m not one to keep a lady waiting. I dive into the car, and my mouth is on hers before she can say another word. She tastes like beer and mint, and her body is soft and warm against mine. She crawls into my lap, her tongue hungrily exploring my mouth. I run my hands down the bumps of her spine before digging my fingers into her waist. I want to be in her. Desperately. But apparently that isn’t something she allows so readily.

“You’re not gonna let me fuck you tonight, are you?”

“No.” It’s a playful whisper. “You have to earn that.”

I groan against her lips. “How do I earn it?”

She merely smiles and kisses me again, sliding her hands underneath my shirt to stroke my bare chest. Christ, I love having her hands on me. And I need my hands on her. I pull her long-sleeve shirt off and tug her camisole up to her collarbone. The bra beneath it is paper-thin. She doesn’t need the padding, though. Her breasts are full, perky, fucking perfect. I tweak her nipples through the lacy material and enjoy the sweet moan I’m rewarded with.