Page 35 of I Hate You More

There was only one way to handle a situation like this, and it just so happened that it was one of the few things she knew how to do.

Challenge. Compete.Win.

“One hundred and forty, right?” She took a deep breath and backed away. The distance between them increased but the heat remained. “That’s where you left off, right? You and Caleb?”

His eyes flashed a warning. “That’swhat this is about?”

“No, but it’s what I’m going to make it about.” She nodded toward the line behind Spencer. “You said you weren’t sure you could make it that high, so we’re about to find out.”

“You want me to do push-ups right now? While you stand there without a shirt on?” He glanced down at himself, where the clean lines of his slacks were starting to show serious signs of strain. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

She released a shaky laugh. Physical exertion would be equally difficult for her, even if the evidence wasn’t on display. Her insides were rapidly turning liquid. “I’m not that cruel. I was thinking more along the line of strokes.”

His breath hitched. “Strokes?”

The way he said the word—with just as much interest as incredulity—brought a smile to her lips. Whatever else she might say about this man, his competitive instincts matched her own.

“Unless you don’t think you can?” she said. “It’s asking a lot, I know. You can always forfeit.”

He took two steps backward, refusing to speak until he was safely ensconced on his half of the living room. “You did that on purpose. You wanted me to cross to the other side. You wanted to punish me.”

“It doesn’t have to be a punishment, Spencer. In fact, if we do things right, it can be the exact opposite.”

Without him there to stop her, she flicked open the buttons of her jeans one by one, tugging them lower each time. She didn’t stop until her jeans were low enough to reveal the top band of her panties. It wasn’t her sexiest pair by a large margin—comfortable cotton with rainbow elastic across the top—but that didn’t seem to make a difference. Spencer took one look at the soft skin of her lower belly and immediately forced his gaze back up.

With a sinking heart, she realized it wasn’t going to work. Even after all this time together, even with his recording on her phone andthatglint in his eyes, he was still uninterested in taking things to the next level. She’d called the bluff on his attraction, and that was the end of it for him. He’d done what so many men had done before—taken one look at her and decided he knew exactly what kind of woman she was. Only this time, it hurt a lot more.

To Spencer, she was and always would be Ruby Taylor, former beauty queen and current waste of space. Nothing she did—or exposed—was going to change that.

“One hundred and forty?” Spencer said. Ruby was so startled by the sound of his voice that she didn’t register what was happening right away. It took him tugging the bottom of his shirt out of his slacks for that. “Fine. Easy. I can do that with one hand tied behind my back.”

A squeak of surprise and delight escaped her. He was going to do it. He was going to meet her on this battleground—this sexually charged, bizarre battleground—and he was going to do it as her equal.

“I imagine most men only need one hand,” she pointed out, too entranced by the sight of him slipping out of his shoes and shrugging off his jacket to do more than that. So far, he’d exposed no more skin than she’d seen before, but there was something about the systematic way he was loosening all his bindings that made her mouth go dry. “Do you want me to take the rest of my clothes off, too? I’m more than happy to if you think it’ll…help.”

He paused in the act of unbuckling his belt. “Leave your clothes exactly where they are. This is going to be hard enough as it is.” A low chuckle escaped him as he added, “I guess I should admit that it already is.”

Ruby almost combusted on the spot. Spencer was making jokes. Spencer was making jokes about his erection. Spencer was making jokes about his erection mere seconds before he was going to pull it out for her.

A whimper escaped before she could stop it. Spencer heard it and pointed a warning finger at her.

“You can’t make those sounds, either. It’s not sportsmanlike.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to help myself,” she confessed. “What’s the forfeiture rule, by the way? If you, ah, don’t make it all the way?”

His mouth firmed in a hard line. “I’ll make it.”

“You don’t know that. One hundred and forty is an awful lot of stroking. And rubbing. And pumping. And—”

“Stop it. You’re making that sound again.”

It was true. Shewasmaking that sound again. She was also starting to feel a little faint. She’d wanted this—wanted him—from almost the moment of their first meeting, but she’d expected to be a more active participant.Shewanted to be the one rubbing and stroking and pumping and—

“How about this?” Spencer asked before her whimper had a chance to devolve into an out-and-out moan this time. “If I don’t make it, then you can come over here and I’ll strokeyoua hundred and forty times instead.”

The liquid heat that had been building up inside her turned into a deep, tugging pang. If she’d wanted to win this challenge before—and she had—she’d stop at nothing now. The thought of Spencer’s hand between her legs, of him punishing himself by putting his fingers inside her, was making her whole body take flight.

“Oh, you foolish man.” Ruby squared her stance so that she had a complete, unadulterated view of him. “You shouldn’t have said that.”